


Choices

by my_thestral



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 133,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_thestral/pseuds/my_thestral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Auror Weasley, at a bit of a crossroad in his life, makes a surprising revelation and has to make some rather unorthodox choices...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If only the bathroom walls could talk...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi-chapter fic and it's finally complete, yey me! (Took me long enough!)   
> Chapters from 1-7 have been beta-ed by the super-cool [wwmrsweasleydo](/users/WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo/) and then the lovely and very busy lady ran out of time (I can't say I blame her one bit, I'm profoundly grateful for the enormous amount she helped me with!) - so beware of the Chapters 8+: from that point on, the grammar and choice of words are most likely rather appalling.  
> Oh yeah - just as long as we're clear: the characters aren't mine and I'm not making any money (as if I could!), just lots of fun!

"What the fuck are  _you_  doing here?!" Ron was staring incredulously at his childhood nemesis by the name of Draco Malfoy who languidly approached him down the corridor of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  
  
"Oh, Weasel, why so harsh? Still, it is without a doubt  _adorable_  to hear that life after Hogwarts did nothing for your vocabulary..." the tall blond said in a smooth voice, permeated with a clear undertone of sarcasm. "Not that I expected any different, of course... considering the company you keep I'm surprised you didn't " _oink_ " at me..."  
  
Ron was really not in the mood... really. Not this morning, not in this hell of a month, not in this life. So he pulled himself up to his full height and bored his ice-blue stare into the grey eyes of his life-long opponent, which were currently sparkling with amusement and curious interest.  
  
"You are right lucky that I don't want to start my first day in the field-squad by crashing someone's gob in  _before_  I leave the Ministry premises - though I just might make an exception for  _you_. And so your marble mug gets to see another day, as sad as this makes me. I'm kind of hoping here you just got lost and when I turn the corner, you'll already be on your way to killing kittens or whatever else makes you squeal in joy. Just... don't talk to me and be kind enough to dissolve."  
  
He pushed past the lean youth in expensive clothes without sparing him another look and turned the corner indeed - the coffee machine was there, an invention from hell by a doubtlessly mad Muggle, forced upon them by his enthusiastic father. The contraption made worse noises than the Hogwarts Express on the best of its days and the smell of the liquid it produced could make someone sprout zits – but Ron was in a desperate need of some soothing warmth, even if it came in a paper cup with appalling taste, so today it would have to do.  
  
But the unexpected touch on the shoulder made him jump and spill some of the searing hot liquid over his fingers and he launched into a full-fledged cursing spree as he desperately tried to shake off the stinging drops of coffee. Ready to bring the intruder to his premature end he turned abruptly and once again found himself staring in the grey expanse of Draco Malfoy's eyes.  
  
" _Actually_... I'm here for you," said the blond man calmly without bothering to hide his amusement. When he saw the blue eyes go as big as saucers in surprise he rolled his eyes up and elaborated in a bored voice: "Oh, don't get your hopes up, _Weaselby_ , it's not like I came here to ask your hand in marriage! As it is, I've had the misfortune of being transferred this morning and well, some  _fool_  in the administration though it would be an exceptionally fine idea to make my life further misery and pair me off with you. So, it seems, we're stuck for a while and  _do_  please keep it civil, as I'm sure this situation is as uncomfortable for you as it is for me."  
  
"NO. WAY. IN HELL," said Ron adamantly and, having given up on an over-heated cup, threw the whole thing, liquid and all, in a bin. "I'm going to talk to someone about this; fuck me and mine if I'm putting up with your antics for what could be months! I've seen Azkaban from inside; like hell I'm going in there for getting the world rid of you - and given our history, that's just a question of time!"  
  
He turned on his heel and was about to head off to the direction of the Department chief, when he was stopped in his track by a soft, yet lethal voice behind him: "By talking to someone, I'm sure you mean Potter... and from what I  _hear_ , he couldn't be happier if you came crawling back into his arms... After all, it's been a whole 48 hours since you asked for a transfer; he must be missing you terribly..."  
  
Ron closed his eyes, trying to hold back an urge to put his large hands around the slim neck of the haughty blond and just _squeeeeze_... But he was right, of course; Harry would be over the moon for having him back, not even an hour spent away from him in the field - and given the circumstances, he really couldn't have that. He wondered how Malfoy had found out and why did he bother; and if  _he_  knew, perhaps  _everybody_  else knew as well - but it was kind of beside the point and he had no intention to complicate his life further by trying to project what the rest of the world was thinking about his mess of a life.  
  
So he opened his eyes again and looked straight into Malfoy's smirking face. "All right then, Malfoy. I'll give this a go. I don't know how you found out and frankly, I don't care, but if I find out you're spreading filth about me or Harry behind my back, the house of Malfoy will be mysteriously missing an heir. I know your survival skills in the field aren't worth a knut so someone must really hate you to transfer you here. For fuck's sake, last time I checked, you were..."  
  
"A healer," jumped in Draco obligingly and smiled beatifically. "And those are worth something in the field, Weasley, as I'm sure you know. Let's see if I remember how Kingsley put it in our introductory speech... _'Aurors come by a dozen a galleon, while healers in the field are worth their weight in gold.'_  Yes, I do believe these were his exact words..."  
  
"Oh, shut the fuck up!" said Ron a bit too irritated for his own liking - how was it that even after all these years that blasted ferret  _still_  had a way of getting under his skin?! "As far as I know, this is your first time in the field, so you'll only be worth your miserable weight in gold if you live long enough to write a report about it. And since we're apparently a team and I'm the one with all the violent skills, your continued existence is kind of down to me, so don't piss me off, or I won't go out of my way to protect you!" he hissed. "Now - what do you know? Are you any good? Or did daddy dearest just buy you a bunch of N.E.W.T.s?"  
  
With a small satisfaction he saw a shimmer of rage reflect in those grey eyes, before the haughty youth snapped at him: "Of course I'm good, you pathetic wanker! I'm the best. Watch this and learn."  
  
And before the redhead could stop him Draco Malfoy took a hold of the hand Ron was still nursing from his close encounter with boiling coffee and two of his burnt fingers suddenly disappeared in a silken wet cave of Draco's mouth. Ron's eyes got impossibly big and blue when Malfoy sucked gently and his tongue slipped between the fingers and caressed them as if this was the most normal thing to do. For some reason the ginger couldn't tear his eyes away from Draco's face, occupied with his tender ministrations and he was barely aware that the pain subsided and was replaced by something entirely  _different_... and more sinister.  
  
Suddenly aware of the ridiculous position he found himself in, Ron abruptly pulled his hand from Malfoy's mouth and stared at him in disbelief.  _The bloody git just gave him a hard-on_! Him, and his fucking _foul mouth_... and to hell with his own treacherous body: he got himself fucked into exhaustion last night and he just wanked not two hours ago, how can this boiling pot of hormones  _possibly_  ask for more!? By Merlin's tangled beard, how on Earth did he always find himself in situations like that?!  
  
"What the fuck are you playing at, Malfoy?!" he hissed and turned away abruptly, feeling a familiar blush spreading up his neck.  
  
"Just giving you a lesson in self-healing you big ginger Neanderthal! When slightly burnt, apply moisture," simply replied the blond, not at all concerned by his unorthodox actions.  
  
"Well, keep your foul cavity to yourself next time, or you'll be sporting a gap in the front row of your porcelain. For fuck's sake, you're a wizard, just use magic or something, no need to try to  _gross_  me  _out_  into an early grave!" Ron mumbled, well aware how far from the truth these words were.  
  
"And how much fun would that be?" shrugged Malfoy. "There are a million charms, but none that would make your hair stand on ends like  _this_!" And he smiled again, looking every bit like a cat that just devoured a nest full of mice.  
  
"Ever so glad I'm able to entertain you, you twat," said Ron dryly and threw in a cold look. "Next time I get hexed in the arse, I'll be sure to call you - if the rumours are true, you'll be overjoyed to be able to apply this " _remedy_ " you advertise so eagerly on  _that_  spot!" He turned around without sparing him another look and put his long legs to work to get as far away from the annoying blond bastard.  
  
But he truly had no luck this morning: "Homophobic? You, of all people?" he heard his aristocratic drawl behind him, just a tad out of breath as the blond was hardly a match for the angry ginger's stride. "Now, if the rumours  _I heard_  were true..."  
  
And suddenly Ron had enough of it. It had truly been a month from hell. After 5 years of marriage Hermione caught him fucking Harry into oblivion and she went all bonkers. Of course they were shagging,  _of course they were_ , what the hell did she think they were doing, practically joined at the hip, at work and at home!? They'd been doing it since they were teenagers, what better way to take care of the tension and let go of all the darkness and the problems they had to deal with?  
  
And he was pretty sure she knew they did it, she just wasn't ready to see them in action - truth be spoken, the way they fucked was worlds apart from the gentle seduction she was used to. Harry was... Harry needed a lot of  _taming_  in bed (well, it wasn't always bed, it was where ever the hell their hormones sneaked up on them) and Ron was more than happy to give it to him. In fact, if they weren't naked it would have looked more like they were at each other's throats and if Ron had to choose between the way he made love to his wife and how sexual encounters with Harry looked, there was no doubt in his mind which way his affections swung. He was a man's man, build for domination and Hermione was just  _no_ challenge.  
  
As far as he went, things were perfect just the way they were: he loved his kids, he didn't mind banging his wife and he had Harry on the side to take care of his more raw and brutal needs. But she had to go and break it all apart, screaming so hard he had to throw a  _Silencio!_  at her to save what was left of his hearing (and it also had a welcome side effect of her not being able to hex his bollocks off effectively when she couldn't speak). In the end she got to Harry, not to him: she went and told Ginny and they teamed up on the poor sod. Harry had only Ginny's obsessive affection to thank that she didn't take the kids away from him on the spot, but she sure as hell put him on probation: no Ron for him, not ever again, if he wanted to keep his family intact. And there was nothing Harry wouldn't do for his kids.  
  
Between a rock and a hard place, the Boy who always desperately craved family agreed to break it off with Ron, but much to everyone's surprise, the redhead refused to comply with the same terms, thus promptly labeling himself as the sole scapegoat. To the addition of Hermione's and Ginny's anger - at least they had a good reason, he had to give them that - he was cast out by all but a few members of his family. Molly sent him a Howler, of course she did, but also bloody Bill sent him one!  
  
Bill,  _honestly_?! Of all people!? That very Bill that got up to Merlin-knows-what with Charlie before Ron even knew how to name the things they did?! He still remembered the smack across the face it earned him when he was about eight and he innocently asked Bill why he was snogging Charlie stupid by the pond. And it only got worse after his brother got bitten by that monster of a werewolf - no one spoke about it out in the open, but once a month, when the moon was at its fullest, Bill traveled to Romania to be "taken care of" by his dragon-minder of a brother. No one else would do. And  _that_  Bill sent him a howler!  
  
Charlie, however, was cool about it. He just stuck his head through the fireplace and mumbled something along the lines of " _sorry, you got found out, don't worry, they'll come around_ " - referring of course to his fuming family. But at that point it meant a lot to Ron and though Charlie was parked across the continent, it still gave him solace to know that someone seemed to be on his side.  
  
He knew he could make his life less complicated by lying and promising Hermione whatever she wanted to hear, but honestly - he couldn't be bothered. He wasn't ashamed of having sex with Harry, he was bloody  _proud_  of it! He was for Harry, what Charlie was for Bill: sometimes only he would do. They'd been through so much together and they needed each other on a level he would never be able to explain to Hermione. Besides: Ron really didn't think it was that big of a deal - it wasn't like he'd been neglecting her and his duties! She always complained about him being insatiable, the bloody woman should be happy if he found another outlet for his passion!  
  
And he took good care of his kids; better than she did, in fact, being busy with her complicated career. The two little ones adored him and when Hermione tried to blackmail him into " _no more Harry, or no kids_ " deal, he simply told her, he'd be the one asking for divorce, making sure it made the headlines in the Daily Prophet with a lovely heart-breaking story of his unrequited yearning for his best mate and his ever absent career-obsessed wife - well, surely that would do wonders for the said career... So they agreed to keep the façade going for the time being and he had full access to the kids after that, usually coming to their once-home from work as before, spending the rest of the afternoon with them until they were ready to be tucked in and listen to a bed-time story. And then he left Hermione in her lonely bed and apparated to the flat he rented near-by.  
  
It complicated his life, sure it did, and sometimes he thought that he might have promised to break it off with Harry, if only he was ever certain that he could keep that promise - but as long as they were paired together at work, there was no chance in heaven and hell for it. Harry never could keep his greedy hands to himself when testosterone started flowing. So things were awkward. Harry would come to work, look at him longingly, half the time jumping away as if scorched if they touched accidentally, the other half dragging him to any secluded corner to snog him like a man possessed, until their working day inevitably ended in Ron's flat, where Harry let himself be fucked so thoroughly that Ron was surprised the man could walk straight. If Ron was to keep a track, he'd say that they shagged more often now than they did before they were found out! - but it was somehow different for Ron.  
  
He felt dirty, not for fucking his sister's husband and his best friend, but for having to hide it. He used to be able to hug Harry like a brother, not meaning anything with it, sometimes indeed leading to glorious shagging, but not at all times. And now every sign of camaraderie earned him a stern look by Hermione - Ginny was still not able to see him without going for her wand - or a furious blush from Harry, who immediately began acting so unnaturally that Ron didn't know what to think.  
  
Did he mention things were awkward? And complicated. And hard. And suddenly Ron found out he had no energy to keep this going to infinity. After he once again found himself totally shagged out in Harry's arms, just wishing to fall asleep wrapped around him, Harry - as always these days - had to go and Ron just snapped and told him he was filing in for transfer to put some distance between them. And Harry threw  _a bloody fit_! Ron never knew the man could shout that hard, he'd never seen him so anxious, so beside himself, and when everything else failed, he'd never seen him sob so hard in his arms. It broke Ron's heart. Harry begged him not to let go, just a few more years, until kids were off to Hogwarts and then he'll leave his wife to be with him, " _just a few more years, please, Ron, please.._."  
  
At that point Ron knew he had to leave, there was nothing else for him. Sometimes they were so intertwined, their lives, their loves, that he didn't know where he ended and Harry began. For the first time in years he allowed himself to really think about it, this relationship they both held so dear and he came to realize that once again he'd been as oblivious as a doormat:  _Harry was in love with him_. And what was even scarier, he felt himself falling for Harry as well. Sure enough: fucking someone day in-day out, spending all your time with them, never getting bored of them, and wanting to end your day by falling asleep with your arms wrapped around them - well, this is where the "falling in love" alarm really went off. Even a blind moron like himself knew that much. But with Harry as upset as he was, he didn't know how to let him down gently.  
  
So he lied, he couldn't think of anything better. He told him that people at work were beginning to suspect and that all his sacrifice would be for nothing if either of their wives caught them once again. He knew if he stayed around him a few more times, just this once more, and another, and another... there would be no way back. At one point he would have asked Harry to stay, to make a decision, to tear himself apart between him and his kids - and Ron just wasn't that guy.  
  
So he lied some more and told him how happy it would make Ginny if they began working apart and that she'll come to trust him more and perhaps that would give them more opportunity to see each other after hours... Twisted logic, to be sure, but at that point he was willing to say anything, any bloody thing, lie or half-truth, only to make Harry let go gently, not to cut him off abruptly from that love he had so hopelessly come to crave, not to hurt their relationship beyond repair. He was  _his Harry_  after all and if things were different, if they had come to know the true nature of their feelings earlier, this would have been his chosen life-mate. But as things were, he could not put himself out there to fall in love with a person that would make him hide something as precious as love was.  
  
Of course it was not a clean cut, how could it be, after all these years? Only last night when he was half way on his way to sleep, Harry apparated into his flat, launching himself at him so feverishly that Ron and his massive libido never stood a chance. They shagged each other into screaming - and then Harry had to go and the redhead once again howled at him to stop treating him as his own personal slut and all but threw him out. So Ron's getaway didn't exactly start promisingly.  
  
And now that fucking pompous fart stood there and rubbed it all in and Ron had just had it with him, with this morning, with his life. Without a second thought he grabbed Malfoy by the robes at his neck, lifted him as if he weighed nothing and pushed him into the wall. Which proved out not to be the wall at all, but a door of the Ministry bathroom and not a very clean one at that.  
  
"I asked you,  _nicely enough_  as I recall, to stop spreading  _filth_  about me and Harry," he said through  clenched teeth as soon as the door slammed behind them. "But you just don't know when to quit,  _do you, Malfoy_? Always pushing your limits, always running back to daddy when you fall of the cliff, always dead-set on hurting people.  _Grow up_ , you terrible spoiled rich kid! You're old enough, you're married now, you've got a child of your own,  _can't you just let go for once_?! What's between me and Harry is none of your business and yet you poke and stab and try to wreak havoc with your vicious tongue!" he growled, too consumed by anger to notice that the slender youth suddenly grew very still, his grey eyes positively drinking light from Ron's stormy blue orbs.  
  
But the redhead was fully in his element and once and for all determined to get his frustration out on this one person that deserved it the most: "What  _the fuck_  makes you so  _miserable_  that you can't keep your pathetic filthy fits of menace to yourself?!  _That's what I'd like to know!_  You have it all, Malfoy, so why can't you just enjoy it and let others be!" he barked, all boiling blood and fierce eyes.  
  
" _You_..." the hoarse voice was hardly recognizable as the blond continued to stare at his captor; that single word loaded with so much unfathomable tension that it made Ron let go of his robes and look deeply into the grey eyes in confusion. " _You_  make me miserable... it's  _you_  I can't have and it makes everything else  _worthless_..." finally came out of the young man's mouth, something between frustrated seething and a desperate cry.  
  
Before Ron could pick up the remains of his shattered mind from the floor, the soft warm lips of Draco Malfoy found him and all his anger suddenly morphed into something entirely different. One thing was sure: there must have been a law against what this man did with his mouth. His aristocratic slim hands sank into Ron's flaming hair and brought them closer and not a second later somehow the soft slick tongue found a way into his mouth and unhinged the floor from under his feet.  
  
Draco's mouth was sweet, literally sweet as candy, beautiful rosy lips drank kisses from Ron's mouth as if the life of their owner depended on it and the tongue - that incredible, skilled, wonderful tongue that caused him so much pain and humiliation, slid across his hot wet cave, gently begging for a partner to play with - and Ron's mouth surrendered without further ado.  
  
The next thing he knew the surprisingly warm body was pressed against his and it made the ginger's head spin when he felt just how hard the man in his arms was. Just a small rub against Ron's muscled thighs and the sound that came out of Draco's mouth was so ungodly that it wiped out all the doubt from the redhead's mind as to the blond man's intentions: Draco Malfoy wanted him and he wanted him bad.  
  
For some reason this unspoken want fuelled Ron like nothing else could. Before he was aware of himself, he was kissing the haughty young blond into oblivion, giving it all as if there could be nothing else between them than this unconsumed passion. His full-on assault had results Ron could not imagine in his wildest dreams: the beautiful blond in his arms rutted against him helplessly, returning his passion unabashedly and once Ron's mouth slid down the long swan neck, maddeningly appealing in its unblemished aristocratic grace, he heard him curse quietly in a heated voice:  
  
" _Godfuckinggodohgodohgod.... fucking goddamn Weasel... sweet Merlin, how I hate you... moremoremore, you fucking animal... more of you, more, oh, yessss, just there, you incredible bastard..."_  
  
Ron didn't know when his hand found a way into Malfoy's robes, inside his impossibly tight pants, on top of his boiling rock-hard erection, rubbing in earnest, making the blond's knees buckle and building up his passion until the young man could take no more.  
  
" _Need you_... need you to fuck me, Weasley... Ron, goddamn you,  _fuck me now_!" he begged shamelessly, looking every bit as if he was desperate to get more of the friction Ron's skilled hands provided.  
  
"You're insane..." panted Ron, painfully hard but still not as far gone as not to realize, how mind-blowing this idea was.  "I don't know what's gone into you, but I promise you'll be sorry once you come to your senses... we can't fuck here, this is the Ministry premises and someone... ahhhhh..."  
  
Draco mercilessly bit his neck to shut him up and immediately licked the bite with soothing broad strokes of his sweet tongue: "Less talking, more fucking, you impossible crazy ginger pillock..." he moaned his need into his ear and began nibbling on his ear-lobe... and somehow he must have guessed that Ron's ears were his weak spot, because the redhead saw stars and almost gave in... almost.  
  
He pushed Draco away with the last of his strength and when the blond staggered and stared at him incredulously, he barked in a hoarse voice: "Goddamn mental, you are... What the fuck are you playing at?!... If you think you can bend anyone you want to your will, you've got another think coming... I'm not gonna fuck the heir of the Malfoy family in a dirty Ministry bathroom! That's just... no."  
  
"Weasley...!" hissed the blond, his eyes wild and the danger in them unmistakable.  
  
"Fuck off, Malfoy!" said Ron brutally, before he disappeared into one of the stalls and unceremoniously crashed its door into the stunned blond's face. Seconds later there was a sound of the zipper and unmistakable noise of flesh rubbing against flesh, accentuated by a small "oh... fuck... fucking brat... fuck... oh...".  
  
Draco Malfoy saw red. And Malfoys never saw red without consequences. In a quick succession a few things happened: first there was a stream of expletives directed at " _motherfucking Weasel!!!_ " that would have left the crowd of the Knockturn alley blushing, followed by a loud  _Colloportus!_ , hissed  _Silencio!_  and a very loud  _Reducto!_  directed at the door of the hapless stall that harboured Ron and before the shocked redhead managed to finish his "What the fuck...?!" there was a very livid, very disheveled looking Draco Malfoy on his knees in front of him, making Ron's swollen prick very much his business.  
  
" _Now_  look what you made me do..." the blond moaned between two luxuriously exploring licks and Ron was finally left defenseless when his dick was submerged into the incredible hot wet cave of the Slytherin's mouth and Draco Malfoy began sucking him off in earnest. With a loud " _Draco_...!" his fingers sunk into the soft platinum hair and his body began moving on his own accord. He was rendered helpless by the beautiful skilled lips, surrounding him, devouring him, working him towards a monstrous orgasm and he couldn't control his hips fucking the wonderful mouth; he couldn't stop his fingers playing with the incredibly soft hair and he had no say whatsoever in what came out of his mouth: "Oh, beautiful... oh, goddamn you, you blond bitch, don't you dare stop now... oh, god, Draco, I'm gonna drown you in my come..."  
  
But the blond was just as far gone as he was. Eyes closed, completely dedicated to his worship of a gorgeous cock that he wanted beyond what he ever thought possible, he worked him with everything he'd got, barely conscious of his hand freeing his own erection and rubbing it with desperate need. His mouth was so occupied with Ron's heavy shaft that he could barely make a sound, but whatever came out of his throat was so primal and needy that it completely undid the redhead.  _God_ couldn't stop him from coming when he broke.  
  
"Draco, gorgeous... oh, don't... don't you stop... oh, godplease... gonna... gonna come... now, nownownownow... Draco, yessssss!!!" Ron positively hollered while his trembling body shot strand after strand of his immense release deep into the young man's throat, not caring if the whole magical universe came to witness his surrender. Eyes closed, as if a man thirsty, Draco sucked every last drop of the pearly liquid, all the while working himself with impossible speed towards the end and within seconds followed Ron into the wilderness of ecstasy, helplessly shouting his name: "Ron... ohgodfuckingdamnyou... ohgodfuckthislove... Ron...!"  
  
With shaking legs Ron slid down the wall of the stall, not caring about the dirt made by the past visitors and closed his eyes to get a grip of the crazy rhythm of his heart. Not bothering to open his eyes he asked between gasps for air: "What the fuck...  _just happened_ , Malfoy...? Did you lost a bet... or something? Someone cursed you? What  _was_  in your coffee this morning, god damn you...?"  
  
"Fuck you, Weasley..." finally came from the panting mouth of the slender blond that collapsed next to him. " _I hate you_..."  
  
Ron finally bothered to open his eyes and he stared at his life-long enemy with incredulous wonder: "Yeah, I kind of got that part when we were eleven, Malfoy... but what the fuck was  _that_  just now...?"  
  
The blond Slytherin leaned his head back onto the wall and began laughing quietly, sounding every bit as desperate as if he was crying. " _That_ , Weasley... was long overdue...  _that_ , my beautiful oblivious ginger idiot, was me trying to tell you that I'm crazy about you..."  
  
" _Me_..." Ron's jaw almost hit the floor and he stared at the beautiful shagged out young man, feeling every bit the oblivious retard everyone was telling him he was.  
  
Draco finally opened his grey eyes, reflecting the morning light, making them look almost silver and turned his head towards Ron, who was shamelessly gaping at him, for once lost for words.  
  
"You, who else? Why so surprised, Weasel? Who did you think I was after when I stalked and picked on the lot of you? _Your Mudblood wife_!? I wouldn't lean my broom against her!  _Potter_?! The scrawny little half-blood, what has he got on you!? I wrote you  _a bloody song_ , you twat! Anyone else would have figured it out ages ago... you always had my full undivided attention, everyone just blended into the background when you stepped on the scene, I couldn't take my fucking eyes of your brilliant bloody red mane! I still can't as a matter of fact..." he smiled almost sadly and Ron found himself mesmerized by this confession.  
  
But the blond just turned his head again to stare in the empty air in front of him as if the sight of this face that had haunted his dreams since he was a teenager was suddenly too much for him to handle.  
  
" _Why_ ,  _oh, why_  did I have to fall for the biggest most oblivious imbecile on the planet?" he sighed quietly, as if talking to himself. "If there was potion against it, I would have drowned myself in it, trust me.... As it is... there's not a damn thing I can do. I know you're Potter's little side-dish and even I'm not stupid enough to try and stand between the bloody prodigy and his little prey. I just… I needed to have a taste of it for once... try and get you out of my system..."  
  
The silence fell on top of them like a thick winter blanket after these words and for a few long moments they were left to their own thoughts.  
  
"So... did you?" finally asked Ron, his voice soft and almost lost.  
  
"Did I  _what_ , Weasley, you blissful wonder of eloquence?"  
  
"You know... get me out of your system?" asked Ron, voice still gentle, for once willing to ignore the insults.  
  
The blond was silent for another moment. "I don't know," he finally replied, misery etched into his voice. "I guess I won't know until the dreams return... or hopefully  _not_!" he said bitterly and finally looked at Ron gaping at him as if someone had finally flushed his world down the drain. He smirked, but it lacked malice for once, it was just a sad little gesture as he added in a tired voice: "I dream about you all the time."  
  
"You dream about  _me_?!" Ron said with an incredulous wonder in his voice. "All the time," came a quiet sigh from the young man next to him. "I dreamed of you on my wedding night, for Merlin's sake... I couldn't do it, you know... that wedding was the burial of all my hopes ever coming to life... so I told her I was too drunk and she pretended she understood... but then I fell asleep and I had this dream... absolutely vivid... suddenly it was you and not that bland fragile creature next to me in my bed... It was your magnificent hot body covering mine, my fingers sunk into that warm wonderfully smelling fiery hair, your strong muscles surrounding me, claiming me, your infernal soft mouth making me come... and then I woke up and that's how I made my son, Weasley... thinking of you. And when he was born, for a while there, he had blue eyes - I'm told it's common with all babies, but to me they seemed just like yours and it was enough for me. From that moment on I loved him beyond words."  
  
Everything about that moment felt surreal to Ron – how was it that he was sitting on the dirty floor of the Ministry bathroom, listening to a confession as private as that, a stunning heart-breaking expression of affection, coming from someone presumed to be as heartless as Malfoy of all people?! But perhaps there wasn't a good place and a good time for that kind of confession – not anywhere, not ever. So this was just as good as any other time and place. He was left speechless for a long while.  
  
"But then  _why_?!" he finally erupted. " _Why,_  then, do you treat me like dirt, if you want me?! Just before... I would have gone with it, you know... you made me forget myself and then you order me around like that... Why the hell do you have to treat me like a house-elf all the time and then you sit there and you tell me you actually give a fuck about me...??"  
  
"It's just me, Weasel," shrugged the blond, still sounding deflated. "I can't get out of my skin... not even for you can I ever forget who I was raised to be... I don't know any other way... besides, what good would it accomplish, letting you know that I - as you so civilly put it -  _give a fuck_? You were always his, holy Potter's little property, always so loyal, always so ready to please him, always so out there for him... how could I compete? So I got what little of your attention I could the only way I knew how... except now, you've finally left him, at least for a while, and I saw my pathetic little window of opportunity... if I was ever going to do something about this... about this goddamn boiling cursed obsession I have to live with, it was going to be now... and now you know and it's left me defenseless..."  
  
Still staring into an empty space in front of him, his eyes submerged in another dimension, the blond sounded defeated and tired and raw. And somehow that tired raw voice stirred Ron out of his stupor and he spoke softly: "Do you know why I left Harry?"  
  
"I can't imagine," said the Slytherin numbly and finally looked towards him, only to be caught by the light in Ron's eyes. "I couldn't fathom you ever would..." he said in a voice barely above the whisper, still caught in a web of Ron's crystal eyes.  
  
"Cause he loves me - and still won't be with me. Cause I was about to love him with all I've got and he would have me lie about it. And I'm  _sick_  of all the lies... and the pretence... and hiding... I can't do that anymore... I can't want to be with him only to know that he'd never put this thing between us first, that I can never walk around with him hand in fucking hand like we’re a couple of nancies if I felt like it - not that I do, mind you, but... oh, you get the point... I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I want someone that will stand by me, for once make me feel like I'm worth the fucking  _world_  to them, you know what I mean?"  
  
Speechless, Draco nodded and suddenly blurted out: "Would you care to have dinner with me tonight?"  
  
Ron's eyes got as big as planets and he started with insecurity: "Look, Malfoy... I'm not sure you got me right..." - only to be cut of by a suddenly very focused looking blond: "It's not a  _date_... not if you don't want it to be... after all, we're both still married, how could it be... but... if you want, we could go out together, in public... some nice restaurant, nothing too fancy if you don't wish... just a bit of fun, you know... to celebrate the new partnership... my treat, of course... I'm not ashamed to be seen with you," he ended; his voice determined as if he was trying to make sure Ron got his point.  
  
Just a moment of numbness, when the world came to a halt - enough to make Draco aware of his heart pulse wildly in his throat - and suddenly Ron's face literally exploded in a beautiful breath-taking smile that almost stopped the said heart of one very infatuated blond.  
  
"Sure," he said softly in a deep rich voice that always reminded Draco of honey. "I'd love to go. I could use a bit of fun, it's been a hell of a month and just a chance to unwind - well, I'd have to be thicker than a bloody troll to pass up on that, wouldn't I?"  
  
He got up, suddenly full of life and vigour and pulled the still-stunned blond to his feet. "Go on, then, Malfoy, we can't sit around in a Ministry loo all day! We have a job to do and we're lucky if we'll escape Kingsley's memos-gone-berserk intact - bloody things snap at you if you ignore them, imagine that! Worse than the blasted owls... Here you go -  _Scourgify!_  - clean as a whistle - we can't have you be late and look like you've just port-keyed from a Romanian dragon's nest on the first day of work!"  
  
"You're the one to talk!" Draco finally found his voice. "A proper ad for a shagged-out broom you are, hair sticking up like that," he used the opportunity to sink his long fingers into the fiery hair as if trying to undo the damage and smiled blissfully when Ron let him - "And - well, let's not lose words on your shabby attire... it would suffice to say that your mother might find it fit for scrubbing the floor!" His hands slid down the redhead's body under pretense of trying to smooth his robes only to find his fingers caught in those big hands he couldn't take his eyes off and he felt himself being pulled closer to the warm big body and it almost stopped his breath.  
  
"Playing with fire there, Malfoy," said Ron in a soft smooth voice and suddenly put his fingers under his chin to make him look straight into his eyes and the proximity of those sea blue orbs made Draco's heart go on a rampage. "I'll go out with you, but you have to earn...  _the rest_..." And the soft warm mouth found him once again, tentative at first, asking him to come and play with the small licks of a gentle probing tongue, toying with him, leading him on, slowly taking control until it was somehow undoing the very seams of his composure and sanity to the point that he was shaking and raw with desire – and that’s when the gorgeous lips left him just as suddenly as they began their bone-melting assault, leaving behind one terribly aching, very dazed and jelly-legged Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Wha... what the fuck was that just now...?!" the blond blabbed unsuccessfully trying to pull the marbles of his melted brain together enough to talk.  
  
" _That_ ," said Ron with a smooth smile, fingers gently caressing the sides of his face, "is called a kiss, Malfoy. Come now, I'm sure you've had yourself kissed properly before now ..."  
  
"No… not like this… not ever..." panted Draco still feeling disorientated and - oh god! - so incredibly turned on. "Never  _like that_ ," he finally managed and stared up into Ron's eyes as if he needed a compass in this newly discovered realm.  
  
"Oh," sighed Ron softly, "then it was about time you let someone show you how to do it right... want to try it again..." and when the Slytherin moved in all too eagerly to once again feast on this blasphemous mouth, he added with the tiniest bit of amusement "... tonight, perhaps?"  
  
"What...??? Fuck, no... Weasley... Ron, please... now... oh, goddamn you Weasel... nicely done, you horrible, impossible tease!" the blond half moaned half seethed, barely able to stand. "How am I supposed to go out there and even walk, let alone look my proper impeccable self now?!"  
  
"Not my problem," shrugged Ron in mocked carelessness, but with a glimmer of curious pride in his blue eyes. "Just another one of your challenges this week, I guess... you wanted to step into Potter's shoes - I say,  _take a shot_ , ferret!" he winked at him cheekily as if they were still eleven and opened the door leading out of the bathroom.  
  
As it was, one Harry Potter was walking down that very corridor in that very moment and stopped dead in his track once he spotted the very man his mind had revolved around the whole morning, casually throwing one of his incredible sexy smiles towards… - what the hell was the snake doing here?!  
  
"Ron...  _Malfoy_ ," he said sounding a bit dumb even to himself. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Oh, I just transferred," said the blond in a matter-of-fact voice, shocking the redhead out of his skin, how effortlessly he seemed to flip on his usual Malfoyian air. "I heard Weasley here was looking for a new partner and since we always had such a...  _fascinating_  relationship, I thought I'd give it a try."  
  
Ignoring the incredulous look in Ron's eyes and a gaping expression on Harry's face he proceeded to produce a smile as radiant as he could muster and turned to the redhead: "Coming? Or do you need a moment with your  _other half_?" he cocked his eyebrow meaningfully and Ron rolled his eyes up. "No, just... we're in a hurry as it is... I'll talk to you later, Harry!"  
  
And he picked up the pace to walk besides the lean Slytherin, willingly ignoring a pleading " _Ron, wait_...". And just before they turned the corner on a dumbfounded Harry, Draco said languidly, well-aware he was very much still within an ear-shot: "Well, about tonight... how does eight o'clock sound like?"  
  
" _Malfoy_!" hissed the redhead, feeling Harry's eyes bore holes into his back. "What are you trying to do? Have Potter hex the butt off us both?! Besides... you  _can't_  just talk private business in Ministry time," he added irritated, as if ashamed of being intimidated by his best mate.  
  
"Well, no... just making sure that this " _no hiding_ " business applies to us both," said Draco calmly and for the first, but not last time that day Ron thought to himself desperately "Oh, bloody hell, what  _have_  I done..." But after a thoughtful moment of silence the tiniest of smiles appeared at the corner of his mouth and he said quietly: "Eight is fine... providing you make it through the day..."


	2. "My way - your way, anything goes tonight..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter taken from a Guns n'Roses song "Anything goes"

07:30 PM  
  
"How would you like to go out tonight for a change, darling?" said Harry Potter to his wife, carefully inserting as much affection as he could muster in his voice. "You know, unwind a bit, take a break from the kids, show your new gown to the world, have your husband to yourself, hm?" he hugged her from behind and planted a kiss on her neck, fully aware that she had no weapon against his gentleness.  
  
"Oh, Harry, that would be  _lovely_ ," sighed Ginny happily and closed her eyes, savouring every second in his warm embrace. Just to think how close she came to losing it forever, she didn't know if she could bear it! - and all of that because of that  _blasted brother of hers_ , who couldn't keep his cursed hungry cock to himself! Ron was a right menace; he always somehow managed to insert himself between Harry and herself, always demanding his attention, always hanging around on the horizon...  
  
She loved her brother, she truly did, but she was willing to hex him into the dead Voldemort's arms if he ever as much as laid a finger on her husband again! It was truly upsetting how much audacity Ron had when it came to Harry - even Hermione with all her wits about her was unable to make him promise he'd never touch him again! He'd taken exile from his entire family - she felt no remorse having blackmailed most of them into it, though Charlie was downright unrelenting when it came to scolding his favorite little brother - and still he wouldn't repent!  
  
It seemed like nothing held the power to stop Ron from coming onto Harry if he wished to do so and it was unnerving and unsettling if one caught a glimpse of the true depth of their relationship. Right now her only control of the matter was through Harry and she made sure she kept a rope around his neck tight. It was bad enough that he got to see Ron at work every day, but that could hardly be helped, though Ginny was fairly certain they'd be too careful to try anything there. So it came as a great and unexpected relief when Harry came home late on Friday and dropped the news that Ron filed in for transfer - he no longer wished to be paired with Harry in the field. It seemed that the isolation from friends and family did wonders for Ron's stubbornness and Ginny was just too victorious to care that Harry looked every bit as if he'd just made it home from a funeral.  
  
He disappeared on her last night and she still acutely remembered the cold hand of fear gripping her heart - all those unwelcome thoughts about him changing his mind came swarming back with a vengeance - but then he returned, and though he had clearly been crying she did not have the courage to ask him why; he came back to her and that was that. And today he seemed to have finally decided to turn a new page and asked her out after what felt like an eon - and to parade their relationship in public of all things! She was willing to all but  _throw_  the kids into the fireplace unaccompanied to go to the Burrow for  _that_!  
  
"Just what place did you have in mind?" she asked with her eyes closed, a small smile playing at her lips, still bathing in his unexpected and much desired attention.  
  
"Oh, well, I don't know... what about "The Silver spoon"?" he said matter-of-factly, effectively knocking the breath out of her. The place he named made her eyes pop open and turn to face him in his embrace with a breathless " _Oh, Harry_...." .  
  
It was just the most prestigious, expensive and luxurious wizarding restaurant in the old world, wizards and witches were lined up for months, even years for a single night there, though her Harry could, of course, gain entry on a whim. There were certain perks of being a Saviour of the wizarding world, but up to now Harry had never been too prone to use his reputation in that manner and had always considered the place to be too posh for a comfortable night out. But he had clearly changed his mind now and Ginny was just too much of a woman to pass up on that! They would be on a cover of every wizarding social chronicle by tomorrow morning! What better way to shut up that Skeeter woman that had been dropping hints about the cooling passion in their marriage!  
  
She saw him smile at her gently and her heart soared. He loved her, she knew he did, she just needed to cut the ties of that unnatural affection he held for her brother and he would be free to love her.  
  
"Just give me a minute," she said adamantly and placed a passionate grateful kiss on his smiling lips, before she swished away to sort herself up.

"Hurry up, lovely!" she heard him say. "I've booked us a table at eight and never mind the kids, I've already asked Molly to pick them up. Just make sure you're as dashing as only you know how!" She stopped on top of the stairs and blew him a kiss: " _I love you, Harry Potter_ ," she exclaimed warmly and then she was well on her way.  
  
As soon as she disappeared, so did Harry's smile and he sighed heavily and ran fingers through his hair. He hated this, he hated lying to her, using her, even, when she deserved so much better and all she ever did was loved him with all her heart. But he also had a heart and it did not belong to her... and well, she was making him do this, they all were. Harry could be down-right unscrupulous when it came to something he wanted and Ron... Ron he _couldn't_  do without. He'd  _tried_ , he had god-honest tried, but as soon as he laid eyes on that tall powerful figure with that breath-taking flaming hair and crystal-clear eyes, he was doomed, he could not keep away. It was always like that, ever since they were teenagers. Ron was his and that was that. And then he'd been forced to let him go and he was desperate.  
  
Just one day without him at work and the place had lost all of its appeal to him; just one odd passing encounter in the morning had made and ruined his day: what the hell was that Malfoy business all about?! He pondered on it in his mind endlessly, but couldn't make head or tail of it, except for the - impossible! - idea that Malfoy had asked Ron out and somehow his best mate hadn't pounded him into mash on the spot...  
  
By lunch time he had worked himself in a right state until he was desperate enough to break into Malfoy's personal files at the Ministry just to figure out what was his favourite place to have dinner. Now how pathetic was that?! But on the other hand, Malfoy's file had proved useful and that was the only thing Harry could bring himself to care about. The rich young man had exquisite taste and, according to his file, clearly liked to dine out, but Harry was good with hunches and something in Malfoy's predatory behaviour told him that he would go all out for Ron - and nothing was better than The Silver Spoon. He was willing to bet his future on it. He  _was_  betting his future on it.  
  
He didn't know what Malfoy's little game was, perhaps just to get back at him and hurt Ron in the process? His timing was impeccable, of course, Ron was isolated and pissed off and as such, quite vulnerable. But in the end it didn't matter - Malfoy had better keep his fine fragile fingers off his man or Harry would break them into splinters! He was his mother's son after all and she'd done it all for love. And now Harry was doing it all for love. For the love of his children, for the love of that man that he couldn't picture his life without. Just a few more years, he told himself... he just had to hang in there a few more years, stop Ron from doing something crazy and irreversible and then they could be together. And for that, Harry Potter was willing to lie, break the vows and into people's files. And more, much more.  
  
So they would be there by eight and be what it may.

~

07:30 PM  
  
"What  _the hell_  am I doing?" Ron sighed, as he hopelessly tried to tie a bow tie around his neck without actually strangling himself. That's what women were for, that's what Hermione had always helped him with, but he could hardly ask for her assistance now, could he?  
  
And "The Silver Spoon", honestly?! Oh, why not the royal court or the bloody Mount Olympus while they were at it?! Island of Avalon, perhaps?! Then they could really mingle with the birds of feather! “Nothing too fancy…” he had said… why, oh, why had he  _ever_  trusted a Malfoy! He  _so_  should have known better!  
  
It was beyond his own comprehension now, when he was safely tucked away in his comfortable little flat, why had he agreed to that... this dinner that suspiciously took on the contours of a  _date_... except that both parties were male, both were married and - well, it was complicated. They had  _nothing in common_ , for fuck's sake, what was he thinking?! Oh, he knew very well what he was thinking  _with_ , agreeing to that insanity of a da-,  _dinner_ , it was dinner - with Draco bloody Malfoy! Not for the first time in his life Ron cursed his birth-line to the great Godric and back for hexing his life with such an untameable libido. So what if the blond’s mouth was illegal and he tasted like Heaven-on-two-feet and he felt so bloody right next to him, like two pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place and... he was doing it again, thinking with his cock! He sighed sadly and looked at the accursed appendage with venom, silently threatening it to put it out of use if it kept on getting him in trouble!  
  
Deflated and agitated at the same time, he abandoned all hope of being able to tie the damn bow around his neck; he let it hang there loose instead, thinking defiantly that the bloody Malfoy could do it, if he wanted him to look all dandy and fancy, or whatever it was that the jet-set lot looked like when going out on a da- dinner! He'd just go as himself and embarrass the shit out of the blasted sod in front of his fancy-dandy company!  _If he even showed up_...  
  
He almost felt a glimmer of hope that Malfoy might be a no-show, perhaps he was only fucking with his mind and, come tomorrow, they could go back to barking at each other and trying to ruin each other's lives as always - except that he just _wasn't_  that lucky... and that this thought, besides bringing him immense relief, also left him with the tiniest shade of disappointment.  
  
Inexplicably, irrationally and downright crazy - for a moment there in the dirty Ministry bathroom he'd felt something between them that had pulled him in, that he felt was worth exploring and frankly - what did he have to lose? Not his reputation, to be sure; no soaring expectations, no hope at  _this_  ever becoming...  _something_.  
  
"As eloquent as ever... even my thinking is not worth jack-shit..." he mumbled to himself begrudgingly, choking on the blond's description of his vocabulary, which got him thinking how very wrong all this was and that he was inevitably headed for disaster.  
  
With a sigh he got up to pour himself a badly needed drink - perhaps getting floored was the right way to go about this evening - when his fireplace whisked to life and a tall young man gracefully stepped out of it. When Ron spotted the trademark flaming hair, so alike his own, he was merely left to stare dumbly.  
  
" _Bill_?" he finally managed. For a second there he'd forgotten that he was shunned by his family and he was merely glad to see his oldest brother - but then his anger returned with a vengeance and he channeled the frustration of this whole impossible day into a hissing: "What  _the hell_  are you doing here?! Surprised that your howler didn't do the job and came to scream at me some more in person?!  _You, of all people_?! Well,  _fuck you_ , Mr. Perfect, I'm not about to live  _a lie_  of your fairy-tale and..."  
  
He didn't get further than this. With a few long steps his brother was next to him and threw his arms around him, effectively hugging him into silence.  
  
"I'm sorry," he blurted out, the regret in his voice so leaden that Ron instantly forgot there was any bad blood between them and let himself be crushed in one over-whelming almost-werewolf hug. His brother just wouldn't let go for the longest time and Ron found out he didn't mind. It felt good in his warm embrace, it felt familiar, like home and forgiveness. He didn't mind the silence either, he could almost hear the cogs in Bill's head turning, trying to come up with the right words and it was OK. He had time. Bloody Malfoy could wait and if he couldn't - well, that was that. This, his family, was more important.  
  
"I'm sorry," Bill repeated once again, his voice almost pleading. "I don't know what got into me... I came home and found Ginny howling her heart out to Fleur and by the time I'd got my wits about me they had already agreed that all men were trolls and that this kind of behaviour - unnatural, treacherous and Merlin know what else! - cannot be tolerated by this family and well, I guess I was kind of  _pushed_  into doing something about it. I might have panicked a bit," he said with a sad apologetic smile. "I guess it just hit a bit too close to home…” he added, his voice barely audible.  
  
“You know, I... you were right, I was always the golden boy and I would never have had the guts to do what you did, little brother. And I guess I pictured myself all too vividly getting caught like that and how different I would have handled it, lying about it, doing anything to protect my image, never caring for what lies beneath, cause that was never going to be good enough for anyone... except for those that matter. Charlie, of course, was livid with me. He hates this part of me, you know... this façade I put on, reflecting everyone's wishes... I think he's the only person that ever truly saw me underneath, that knows how to undo me, break me down into my true self - and it's not a pretty sight, Ron… So I got scared and I sent you that howler, not for you, but for exposing  _me_  to myself... making me see how worthless I truly was, what a bloody coward…"  
  
"It's OK, Bill, honest ... just water under the bridge, yeah?" said Ron gently, for the first time truly aware what a burden of other people's expectation his perfect brother had to live with.  
  
"No, it's not OK, it's not," Bill said adamantly, for the first time lifting his head out of the crook of Ron's neck. There was a wildness in his look and it almost made Ron shiver to catch a glimpse of how much of his brother was imprinted with that vile creature that had bitten him during the war. "I came here today to tell you that I admire you and I love you and you're always going to be my little brother no matter who you love. I just want you to be happy, Ron, the way it always eludes the picture-perfect me by the skin of my teeth," he sighed with unfathomable sadness in his blue eyes, once again so like Ron's that he felt as if he was looking into his reflection down the mirror of time.  
  
"Thank you, Bill," he said quietly. "It means a lot to me... you have no idea how much. And I missed you, you pillock!" It was his time for a bone-crushing hug that helped dissolve the scars on Bill's face into a familiar image from his childhood when his brother was someone to look up to and always on his side.  
  
“So… where are you going, looking so dashing?” Bill smiled awkwardly and took a good long look at him, hopelessly trying to mask the emotional turmoil that confrontation with his rebellious little brother brought about. “Didn't you…?”  
  
“Yeah, I left him…” said Ron quietly and looked somewhere in the empty space behind Bill’s back, as if trying to decide how to explain it to his brother. “I’m sure Ginny’s told you all about it… I can imagine her  _not being able to_   _shut up_  about it!” he said bitterly and finally looked into his brother’s eyes.

“I couldn’t handle it anymore, always living in a shadow… not in a shadow he casts with his name and fame, I’ve long ago got used to that, but in the same shadow you push Charlie in, Bill. If anyone can understand, you can. I don’t want to hide what I want and who I want it with anymore… and he can’t handle that yet. Maybe he never will. He couldn’t make that decision, so I made it for him. It’s my parting gift to him, not breaking him in half. He will always be my Harry and perhaps life will find a way for us one day, but I just can’t wait around for that to happen…”  
  
“At first I thought it was a disaster when we got found out – and it was a bloody  _mess_ , you can trust me on that! - ” he rolled his eyes up, “ - but in the end it was for the best – we were always running on borrowed time and something had to give eventually. So now I’m flying blind, without him as my compass for the first time and I can tell you, it’s scary like fuck, but if I can look myself in the eye again, it’s going to be worth it… I’m not sure I’m making any sense here…” he looked at his brother half apologetically, half sheepishly, fully aware that  _making sense_  never was his strongest point.  
  
But Bill just smiled at him and expressed his appreciation by stroking his cheek, just like he did when he was still his silly little brother.  
  
“You’re making perfect sense, don’t worry,” he said quietly and added fiercely: “And for what it’s worth, I think Ginny is playing a spoiled little princess and Harry is a massive idiot for ever letting you go! Like anyone could  _ever_  stop the mighty Harry Potter from seeing his kids, if he really wanted to! But she played his weakness wonderfully and Harry  _was_  always crap at chess – he walked into every single trap Voldemort ever staged for him and he still stumbles from one tar pit into another! Well – I suppose I could understand it better if I grew up the way he did, so bloody abandoned and isolated…” he finished thoughtfully and then gave another appreciative once-over to his handsome brother and slowly cocked his eyebrow.  
  
“So who is this new bird – or is it a bloke? - you’re getting so dandy for?” he asked with undisguised curiosity in his voice. “Must be someone special if you attempted to put one of these on!” he pointed to the loose bow tie around Ron’s neck, barely able to hide the amusement in his voice.  
  
“It’s a bloke,” sighed Ron unhappily. “I’m done with birds for the time being. Honestly, throw a bloody veela at me and I won’t wince! No… it’s a bloke and the more I keep thinking about it, the worse an idea it seems!” he growled, the thought of who he was about to go out with once again crushing over him like a freight train.  
  
“Come here, let me do that for you,” said Bill calmly, sensing this was not the time to keep poking at his little bro. Tying the bow with practiced motions he spoke softly. “I’ve got every confidence in you, you know. You have fantastic instincts when it comes to people… you’re the one who introduced Harry to our family and it’s done us a lot of good over the years. Besides, you would never have survived in the field as long as you did if you didn’t trust your gut. So what is your gut telling you?”  
  
“That this is a bloody awful idea!” admitted Ron, but added after a small pause: “But for some reason my heart tells me different and I can’t explain…. This person – and I guarantee it, you’re  _so_  not going to like him, I’m not sure I like him myself! – everything about him says “run-the-fuck-away-Ron” – but then there’s something… I can’t tell what but he just feels right… and he’s making all the effort and I really don’t have anything to lose.” He shrugged, momentarily morphing into a practical son of Molly Weasley as if he was afraid he was transgressing into the area of feelings he didn't even understand himself and could never hope to convey to another person.  
  
Having finished with the bow tie, Bill smoothed his robes with a few professional strokes and looked into his eyes one last time: “You’re gorgeous,” he said simply. “Whoever it is, they can count their lucky stars tonight. Just make sure you let it slip you’ve got a couple of werewolf-bitten-dragon-taming brothers and if he doesn’t dive for the door, he can’t be all bad intentions…”  
  
“Thank you,” Ron managed, his throat suddenly dry as he was not exactly used to compliments from his wonder-of-a-brother, but at the same time he felt strangely light-hearted and the gnawing insecurity he’d been harbouring all day vanished into thin air at Bill’s pronounced admiration.  
  
He pulled himself to his full height and looked at his brother apologetically. “I’m running late already, but how would you like to do lunch one of these days? I’ll owl you with the details, if you can find the time… and that won’t get you in a weird place with your wife,” he smiled with a bit of glee and Bill’s face mirrored his cheeky smile.  
  
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said softly. “I’ve got my little brother back and I’m sure that after tonight I’ll have a lot of catching up to do!” he winked at him and earned himself a smack on the back.  
  
“Yeah, right, like I would ever kiss and tell,” mumbled Ron and felt the familiar flush crawling up his neck at the thought what he was already keeping from his big brother. He unceremoniously pushed him into the fireplace from which he had emerged earlier, but Bill wasn’t ready to back down just yet.  
  
“So who is it?” he looked his brother in the eye once again, genuinely puzzled at who might be the mystery person Ron seemed to have so many mixed emotions about. And then Ron smiled blissfully and took a handful of floo-powder in his large fist: “It’s Draco Malfoy,” he said with a devilish spark in his blue eyes and just caught Bill’s jaw hitting the floor as he spoke adamantly: “Shell Cottage!”, throwing in the floo-powder, thus effectively leaving Bill to inhale a mouthful of heavy soot.  
  
“Bon appétit and good luck telling mom that!” he mumbled to himself and disapparated, before he could change his mind.

~

07:30 PM  
  
To say that Draco Malfoy was nervous, was the understatement of the century. Possibly of the millennium. If nervousness could burn, he could have solved the world’s energy problems for the generations to come. Make that forever. He was too much of a Malfoy to show it, though. Of course he was. Breaking one of the cuff-links was just an accident and that hair brush had been cracked  _forever_ , it was bound to fall apart one of these days anyway…  
  
Oh, who was he kidding!? He was a wreck! He could not remember a time when he had felt this distraught, not before the N.E.W.T.s, not even with the Dark Lord wreaking havoc in the Manor! Usually, when crisis was about to hit, he just went strangely numb. Coping mechanism, to be sure, so he could think clearly and act coolly. Except that right now, there was no sign of clarity and cool was for ice-cream and certainly not for the young man, groomed to a T for over an hour, who nervously walked the floor into a hole from one side of the room to the other. How by Salazaar’s bushy beard had he  _ever_ managed to work himself up to that stage!? It was preposterous, unthinkable, really… and for one Weasley, of all people?!  
  
But it was _because_ it was him, wasn't it? He was just such a destructive force in Draco Malfoy’s life that he was never really able to keep his cold indifferent façade around him, no matter how hard he tried. He was half Black after all and they were notorious for their temper! And Weasley always brought it to the surface as soon as his flaming head showed up on the horizon. It was as if his fiery hair lit up something inside Draco that just  _burned_  and burnt his composure into ashes. From the very first time he had ever laid eyes on him, really…  
  
He was after Potter that time, of course. Father’s orders, what else? _Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer_ was the name of the game. And he had been instructed to make close friends with Potter, so he could serve his purpose when the Dark Lord saw fit to show his face again. Except Weasley had gotten to him first and Draco never stood a chance.  
  
From the first moment they met the ginger had mocked him; he mocked his name, he mocked his pureblood status Draco was raised to be immensely proud about – and all of that just by standing there, being as pureblood as one could get and not giving a toss about it! Draco was shocked, appalled and irritated by the redhead’s insolence, by his mere existence. Father had warned him about the Weasleys, saying that there were so many of them he was bound to end up in the same class with one or the other of the filthy lot. But he made them sound as if they were harmless; just a bunch of dirt-poor losers who were a shame to all the purebloods, but without power or influence, so practically invisible and easy to ignore.  
  
And yet somehow Potter wouldn’t even look at him once he hit it off with Weasley! How did the carrot-head do so much damage just during the course of a train-ride?! He had nothing going for him! Shabby attire, freckled as if he had some incurable disease, uncontrollable temper, clearly not a brain trust – what was it about him that Potter just wouldn’t trade?  
  
But then he looked into the fierce blue eyes for the first time and he forgot it all himself; he forgot that he was someone handsome, eloquent, well-bred, smart and rich, cause none of this mattered to the lanky redhead in front of him, balling his fists to take him down in spite of his bulky back up. He found his breath hitch and his blood surge and he was instantly addicted to that seemingly bottomless fountain of feelings boiling under the surface of those crystal eyes, because  _that_  was something he had never come across in his young life. To have someone there for you that you were able to evoke such strong emotions in was intoxicating and it didn’t even matter that those feelings weren’t good. They were  _there_.  _He_  made it happen. He made Weasley mad, he was flushed and breathing hard because of him and somehow that made Draco’s head spin.  
  
Potter was forgotten, just a background image to someone more important and though he remembered saying something about making friends with the wrong sort to the four-eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to care that he failed the mission bestowed upon him by his father. He’d found himself a different game.  
  
From that day on, he sought him out. He belittled him, teased him and provoked him every chance he got, just to see those eyes glimmer again, the tendons in his long neck grow tense and those brutish fists contract. He noticed his body mirror his response and then he was whole again. The feelings he never knew before he met Weasley flooded him full-force and he relished in them. To feel and not to be ignored.  
  
Children must be seen and not heard, was the mantra of his childhood. He felt he only ever was good enough if he filled out the shoes others got ready for him. But with Weasley there was no expectation, no shoes to fill – he just showed up and Weasley delivered. He gave him exactly what he wanted, he made him feel he mattered as soon as he appeared. So what if Weasley was mad enough at him to drown him in a spoon of water? He was mad at  _him_. He felt something, something for him, he mattered.  
  
It took him years to understand that those feelings he harboured and always attributed to the mutual loathing had morphed into something else, something entirely different. He found out he hated the thought of holidays without their daily confrontations, he found himself contemplating for hours what he could do the redhead to capture his attention and as the time flew by the inevitable happened: he started having dreams about the ginger he was so preoccupied with.  
  
At first it was nothing to write mother home about, just glimpses of their daily confrontations, enriched by the imaginative world of his dreams, but slowly he started noticing things about the dream-Weasley that he never really consciously paid any attention to during their daily encounters. Small things, awkward things, things like how soft and fresh Weasley's lips were... how blue his eyes shone when his mouth stretched into a smile and perfect white teeth flashed through... how milky white was his golden-freckled skin in contrast to his flaming hair.... Things like that. Things that made him immensely uncomfortable when he woke up, feeling agitated, out of his mind and off cue.  
  
After the Christmas holiday in the 4th year even his perceptive mother took notice of his obsession, cocking her eyebrow in wonder when he mentioned " _the stupid blasted Weasel_ " for the millionth time.  
  
"It would not do to bestow all your passion on one person, Draco dear," she had warned him mildly, not willing to disturb him, "even if it is one of anger for the person that truly deserves it. Do try to... spread it out a little, nothing good can come out of this," she looked at him kindly, but he was so shocked at her astute recognition he shut his mouth and nothing worth replying came onto his mind.  
  
"Of course, Mother," he finally mustered. "Really, he's so  _pathetic_ , he's not worth mentioning."  
  
Mother had not brought up the subject again as it was not necessary; from that day on Draco was extremely careful not to mention the redhead in the presence of his parents again. But that was not the end of his obsession, if anything, it became more pronounced now, when he had to keep it to himself. His dreams raged on, becoming more and more explicit and morphing from replicas of hostile physical encounters that took place in real life into far more intimate contacts that made him blush and wonder about his sanity when he woke up. He would never be able to repeat those dreams to anyone, but his stupid deluded mind remembered every single one of them, for some reason cherishing them irrationally, throwing glimpses of them in the least inappropriate of moments, making him fear and desperately crave more contact with the object of his obsession.  
  
His first wet dream came after the second task of the Tri-wizard tournament, when he found his throat tied by the wild beat of his heart at the announcement, of who was Harry Potter's thing he'd miss the most.  _Fucking crazy Potter_ , he didn't even have the decency to hide how he felt about his best mate and Draco was seething! A thousand and one biting comments came to his mind when they were waiting by the lake for Potter to show up - but they all died down one by one as he was nowhere to be seen and the task was about to begin.  
  
First there was an unexpected flash of sadness, knowing that once the redhead found out, he would be overwhelmed by his best mate's recognition and Draco would never be able to compete with such intensity of feelings. Then it was anxiety, even less expected. Who cares if the stupid freckled freak has himself eaten by the Merpeople!  _Right_? Except that somehow he did and he found himself on the verge of intervening when the Potter was a no show - what a horrible abomination of an institution _was_ this school, taking such a careless approach to its pureblood students!?  
  
And then the raven-haired youth showed up in the last moment and for the first time in his life Draco was actually glad to see the half-blind fool. Another hour of inexplicable anxiety followed, which he tried to pass by plotting and sharing innuendos and acid remarks about the nature of Potter's affection for Weasley with his cronies, but his heart missed several beats when finally he noticed the contours of the black hair carrying something to the surface.  
  
Weasley was very pale, deathly pale to be exact and for a few unconscious moments Draco's fingers gripped the fence by the lake until his knuckles grew white as if he was trying to prepare himself for the news that Potter was too late... But then the redhead's body contracted and he started spitting water; the blue eyes opened in confusion and Draco found he could breathe again. He could go on with his anti-Potter/Weasley campaign in peace now when Weasley would live to hear about it.  
  
He later attributed it to the excitement of the day, but when he went to sleep that night, he kept on tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable position within his unsettled mind to drift off to sleep. And when he finally sunk into something between a slumber and consciousness, he saw Weasley's face emerge in front of his eyes from the murky water. His eyes were closed and he was deathly pale, just like he had been earlier by the lake and dream-Draco was drawn to him like a moth into the fire. He saw himself kneel by his side and cup his cold wet face into his hands, desperately willing him to open his eyes. And then the redhead did and Draco positively drank life from those incredibly deep blue eyes. Unable to hold himself back he leaned his head down and kissed Weasley right on his tempting soft lips.  
  
And Weasley kissed him right back, undoing him by his fierceness, passion and unsheathed desire. In his dreams Weasley's heavenly lips engulfed him, drinking the soft desperate kisses from his mouth, his tongue making him moan and writhe and beg for more and when he finally woke up, he had his hand wrapped around his shaft, rubbing with helpless blinding passion and for once he was unable to hide from himself who he was thinking about: "Ron,  _ohgoddamn_  you, Ron..."  
  
He came all over himself within moments, leaving him panting and bewildered and simply  _dying_ for more. It was all unknown wilderness for Draco from that moment on. He had no control over his feelings for Weasley, finally recognising them for what they were and leaving him utterly frustrated at the hopelessness of his situation. The redhead was never going to be his anything, least of all lover; the best he could do was to steal a few precious moments in time when Weasley's fuming passion was directed entirely at him and he fed off them for days to come, running the memories of his flushed freckled skin, stormy blue eyes and strained muscles in his head endlessly, satisfied to know that his befuddled mind would turn it into fulfilling dreams. He was lost in endless recurring cycles for winning his attention,  _any_  attention would do.  
  
And then Potter showed up with Diggory's body and everything changed. Things got really dark, really fast. His parents, as absent as they always were, were constantly locked up in the private chambers of the Manor with masked people that looked every bit as vile as Potter was trying to persuade everyone that they were. Draco could have backed up his words when no one believed him, but why bother? He would only get himself in danger and compromise Father. And he was not willing to do that.  
  
Lucius Malfoy was a mean creature and Draco was the first to recognise that, he even admired it for most of his childhood, but he was the only point of reference in the world he was brought up to thrive in and he would never consider betraying him. Not even when one night darkness crawled into every corner of the Manor like a suffocating cloud and a shrouded man entered. Draco was called from his quarters and for the first time in his life stared into the red eyes of pure evil. Lord Voldemort had returned and he had asked the proof of Draco's allegiance.  
  
In truth, Draco could not remember much of how he had got through those terrible two years, after the dark mark was forced upon him - though he was still haunted by a desperate whisper of his mother: "Draco, please, you need to... or he will finish us all!" He was given the impossible task of going up against the strongest wizard of the present day and finishing him off, all the time having to deal with bloody obsessive suspicious Potter stalking him, only to end up back at home - mission successfully completed though not by him - where he found himself hostage to the soulless creature that took hold of his childhood home and turned it into a hell of mindless annihilation.  
  
He sunk into some sort of a stupor, waking up occasionally when he heard  _his_  name mentioned as the memories of him were his only refuge in this dark spot he found himself in. Apparently the redhead had been on the run with Potter and the Mudblood and no one had seen a sign of them for months. It was good to know he was still alive as he was sure he would be the first to find out if he wasn't -after all, he was Potter's shadow and the elusive green-eyed boy had been the Dark Lord's only interest in those terrible times.  
  
And then one day he just appeared in the Manor, stepping out of his dream into his nightmare and it still eluded Draco how he survived the encounter, because he felt him before he saw him and it stopped his heart dead. The Snatchers brought all three of them in, the Mudblood and Potter, grossly disfigured, but Draco barely noticed the other two. As soon as he set eyes on a tall figure, covered in dirt and grime, the heavy veil of his indifference was shred to pieces and his feelings came back with a vengeance. He was never so flushed with fright in his life and for the first time - not only for himself. 

He felt immense relief when his mad aunt Bella picked on the Mudblood to torture first, because he was certain this would not end well if she went after Weasley. He would be forced to do something about it, he knew he would not be able to see him go down. Just seeing him there, captured, but still defiant, sent jolts of joy mingled with fear and anxiety down his body and his mind was working frantically on how to resolve this impossible mess without risking his parents' lives and still making the person he missed the most escape without harm.  
  
And just before they rushed the boys off to the dungeons, their eyes connected and Draco’s insides melted into a puddle of overwhelming emotions. The redhead’s eyes were the only clear thing on his face, everything else distorted by dirt, deprivation and injury. And they stared at Draco for the first time without hatred, just despair and a hopeless cry for help he could not voice and when Draco’s blood surged violently in a rush of uncalled for affection, the blond finally understood the true nature of his feelings.  
  
Simply having those feelings was the last straw in the crumbling house of his pride. He could no longer hide from himself what he felt when he stared at those impossibly blue eyes and at the background of brutal reality, when his world crumbled into ashes around him and every breath was precious, he didn't attempt to. It was love, the one and only. There was no point in lying about it. He was in love with Ron Weasley and as his father had put it once in a rare moment of curious tenderness and sincerity: Malfoys only loved once.

As hard as it was to admit it to himself, it was all he had to cling to. And in the end it was this love, pure and shy, innocent and unrequited as it was ever going to be that brought him back to life and hope and made him risk it all when he let Potter take his wand.  
  
And when the war was over and Potter had won, his parents desperately tried to make him leave the country, to make a life of his own somewhere abroad where their reputation was irrelevant and money was all that mattered. Draco refused point blank, shocking his father almost into a stroke when he decided to take a job at the Ministry. Malfoys didn't do jobs! They sat in committees, they fuddled with politics as a means to an end of achieving more influence, but they never ever worked for god's honest money, not for generations! But Draco decided he wanted to. If working for the Ministry meant he was close to a certain redheaded Auror, that's what it was going to be.  
  
He followed his footsteps without relenting, always in the shadow, always making sure he was not seen, waiting for his opportunity, for his moment. Because if anything, Draco was a survivor and Weasley had become essential for his existence. He knew he had to get him, he knew he at least had to try and once he had caught a glimpse of Potter feeding off Weasley's mouth in an abandoned Ministry corridor, he ground his teeth together in silence and decided to see it for what it was: his chance, time for his move. Curiously enough, the affair between two leading Auror prodigies exploded into the Mudblood's face after his decision and well... if he had anything to do with it, he wasn't sharing. The look on her face _did_  still make him smile, however….  
  
So he transferred, yes he did, as much as Weasley thought he was only pulling his leg - Draco saw his opportunity and sank his foot in it full on. He wouldn't miss it for the world.  
  
And just when he was on the verge of melting into Weasley’s life inconspicuously, taking control as he had planned all those years, he slipped spectacularly and nearly lost it all. For an impossible endless moment in the dirty Ministry bathroom he let his heart take control and let it claim what it craved so desperately all those years. When he came to his senses, he was certain he had betrayed all his efforts and damaged his chances irreparably. He thought it was all over for him, for his most intimate hopes and dreams, and at that point he had nothing left to lose. Hence the truth, the absolute, as he knew it to be… and then the Gryffindor went and surprised him. The blond forgot that honesty was indeed the best weapon in dealing with the funny red-and-gold lot…  
  
Irrational and insane as it was, Ron had decided to give him a chance and now it was almost that time and Draco had every reason to be nervous... If this failed, he knew there would be no second chances... All these years and it had all come down to this, to this evening. Almost 8 o'clock.  _Time to claim his man._


	3. How to leave the the world's most expensive wizarding restaurant in style (but hungry)

When Ron apparated in front of "The Silver Spoon", he made sure it was some distance from the lit up lobby of the fairy-tale building. He stopped and watched it from afar and he felt his breath hitch nervously. The little poor boy inside him, still very much alive, was mesmerized by the glittering sight. The building itself was impressive, more like a palace, really; an abundance of space, lit up by the most amazing symphony of candles Ron had ever seen, simply breathing delicate style and all that unattainable air of wealth one could never reproduce without being born right into it – this was the home ground to all the Malfoys of this world and a far cry from what he was used to. It was not for the likes of him, never for him.   
  
“Bloody hell,” he mumbled and felt a knot in his throat form. You couldn’t even get in, unless you somehow successfully made a reservation or were lucky enough to receive an invitation and for a brief moment an image flashed in front of his eyes what an idiot he would make of himself if he indeed approached the haughty valet just to find out that his name was not on the list and he could crawl away with a tail between his hind legs, thank you very much. He wouldn’t put it past Malfoy to do something like that to him, at least not the Draco he knew before the curious Ministry bathroom incident… but he made it all the way up here and it was time to put his courage to the test. He was a bloody Gryffindor, wasn’t he, and as his Muggle-born wife used to say:  _No pain – no gain_. If nothing else, he  _could_  always try to pull his war-hero status, perhaps that would do…  
  
So he straightened himself up to his impressive height, put what he hoped was confidence his stride and approached the stern bulky man in a staff uniform.  
  
He tried to put all the authority of a trained Auror into his voice when he spoke: “Good evening, my name is Ron Weasley, I’m here for…” But he shouldn’t have bothered. The valet’s eyes got ridiculously round and awed at the sight of a somewhat reclusive, but still undoubtedly famous redhead who towered above him and it was clear he was sporting some sort of a panic attack:   
  
“Mr. Weasley, of course, we’ve been expecting you! Right this way, Sir, right this way… Mr. Malfoy mentioned you might be dropping by, but honestly, Sir, who could miss you? I suspect you are not exactly the kind who gets lost in the crowd, if you forgive my familiarity. It’s this way, Sir, if you please… Mr. Malfoy has reserved a private lounge for your business dinner. The best one we have, if I say so myself, always the best for Mr. Malfoy and his esteemed company,” the man kept blabbing, clearly thunderstruck by Ron’s very appearance.  
  
He took him right past the Skeeter woman, who was frantically making notes in her tattered notebook, almost salivating at the sight of one of the Golden trio – she could already see the headlines:  _“Rags to riches - Ron Weasley finally claims The Silver Spoon”_ – but she positively dropped the notebook when she saw who met the dashing redhead at the door: Draco Malfoy, the heir of the Malfoy family, in all his impeccable glory! That very Draco Malfoy who spent much of his youth plotting against the Saviour of the wizarding world and his companions!  _The very same_  Draco Malfoy who has since forever openly mocked the poverty and lack of pride of a certain pureblood that stood by the side of the Boy who lived unrelenting. Except that the notorious life-long adversary of Harry Potter’s side-kick looked anything but hostile tonight, greeting the tall redhead with a brilliant smile, escorting him into the premises with a hand on the tall ginger’s back!  _What a_   _scandal!_ And she positively overheard the valet mention the private lounge and a business dinner - this had every feature of a social revolution! She urgently needed to find out what business could those two opposites possibly pursue together! She could just smell a story there, a possible headliner even – after all, one could hardly find two people less likely to cooperate and more likely to attempt to murder each other!   
  
But the headlines were the last thing on Draco Malfoy’s mind. His heart stopped for a moment when he noticed the familiar fiery glow and when he got up to meet the absolutely gorgeous looking redhead he felt his legs almost give way. Why the fuck did Weasley have to look so heart-stopping tonight?! He got himself all dressed up, didn’t he, his robes looked new and well-tailored, but even if they didn’t… With his tall muscled frame and dashing blue eyes, almost glowing at the background of that liquid lava of silken hair, he looked every bit fit for the center-fold of one of those glossy magazines the teenage witches drooled over. He was lovely. And sexy. And unstoppable. A creature of magic, clearly sent to this world to doom one Draco Malfoy. He was just a giant magnet for him and not only him – Draco could see people’s heads turn all over the place as the redhead walked past them with his confident stride, oblivious to the attention he stirred,  _as always_. It made him unreasonably proud and irrationally jealous and suddenly he just wanted to grab the magnificent man by the collar of his robes, disapparate them somewhere private and have himself fucked numb….  
  
Instead he was looking at an endless evening full of meaningless chit-chat in the shade of constant anxiety that he would say something wrong, some haughty idiocy that would ruin it all and make Ron leave. But there was no way around it now, if he wanted even a chance to own him, he had to go all the way; the wining, the dining and the chatting and hopefully without drowning in those incredible blue eyes and doing something stupid. He’d been on the verge of practically humping his leg the whole blasted day, hadn’t he, because Weasley on the field was just a goddamn  _porn movie_! All this masculinity and muscle in action made Draco half disabled as he was barely walking through their shift, constantly torn between wanting to snog him stupid and get as far away from him as he could to keep what was left of his rapidly failing self-control. If this was how Potter felt, hanging around Weasley every day, then Draco found new admiration for the man’s ability to stay sane.  
  
And right about now the blond was not at all certain he could keep his precious composure intact. He felt almost dizzy when the tall and undeniably gorgeous man approached him with a slow stride of his endless legs, but then he was suddenly immersed into his wonderful intoxicating scent and he fell apart - Merlin, was there  _ever_  a man who smelled more of sex?! Ron positively _oozed_  sex appeal and Draco felt himself melt into a puddle when the generous mouth stretched into a genuine smile and the redhead spoke in his warm rumbling voice: “Hey there… you’re already here…not waiting for long, I hope…”   
  
The blond couldn’t tell him he was willing to wait well into the next day for him, possibly the next century, as he was not sure he could say anything coherent under an onslaught of acute arousal, but when he finally found his voice, the first thing he actually _did_  manage to say, was, unforgivably, the truth.   
  
“No need to worry, Weasley, not for long, no… just my whole life,” his tongue blurted out and as soon as it was out, he closed his eyes in silent reprimand of the retarded organ’s audacity.  _Great, then_. His brain was clearly left behind tonight and he would be at the mercy of his other body parts. God only knows what other folly his hormone-enslaved body had in store for him! He was so fucked… But when he opened his eyes again, Ron was staring at him and suddenly awarded him with a brilliant unexpected smile that befuddled the rest of his mental capacity and inspired more insane action: one of the blond’s hands which apparently also came with a mind of its own, casually slid up his back when he showed him the way and once it was in place Draco had no intention of removing it again.  _Ever_.   
  
With the corner of his eye he saw the Skeeter woman drop her notebook and gape at them shamelessly and he knew that if the redhead wanted discretion, he'd just royally fucked up. They’d be on a cover of the social chronicle of every wizarding publication by tomorrow. Well, fuck.   
  
But then again – how could Weasley ever hope to keep this private?! He was a bloody  _lantern_  in the dark, with his tall muscled figure and the flaming hair, wasn’t he!? And all too famous to be ignored, though he often chose to forget it and – God, that mindless hand up his back better not be it for their evening or Draco would have it removed! He looked at the ginger anxiously, fully expecting him to look uncomfortable, but Ron merely lifted his chin up another inch and flashed the most blissful provoking smile, directed at him, but just in time for reporter’s camera. Well, fuck again, Draco thought miserably, his crazed heart just a puddle of melted butter in the sun of that smile. With Weasley on the rampage, his self-control was toast.  
  
The unlikely dinner partners had hardly disappeared into the restaurant, when Rita Skeeter’s overloaded brain almost burst a vein - again. Was she seeing things or was that really…  _Harry Potter_ , the one and only, in flesh and blood?! With a reportedly estranged –  _or not??_  - wife hanging off his elbow!? Now  _there_ , right there was stuff for the gods, that’s why she chose the journalist profession to begin with, it was just so  _exciting_! And right now her career choice smelled of a huge bonus! Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy – the business partners from hell; Harry Potter reviving stale romance with his wife - sometimes Rita Skeeter just loved her life!   
  
~  
  
Ron was careful not to look around too much, because, honestly, war heroes with their mouths gaping open were  _not_  an attractive sight. He just stared straight in front of himself, trying not to take in too much of the overwhelming detail of how the privileged lived and dined, so he could make it through the evening with his self-esteem still in one piece. He instead focused on the warm palm of his companion, still resting at the small of his back and the feeling was not at all unpleasant… nor was it unwelcome. He appreciated Draco greeting him as he did and though he couldn’t care less about the newspapers and the Skeeter woman, it stroked his ego the right way that the young man acknowledged their new liaison so publicly. The Slytherin kept his promise so far – he certainly wasn’t trying to hide that they’d found themselves on more friendly terms after long last. After years of discretion and messages with double meanings and meetings he had to hide and excuses he had to come up with – this was… _refreshing_  to say the least. Of course it wasn’t really a relationship, not yet, one blow-job, however glorified, certainly didn’t make that, but there was  _something_  there that didn’t really fit into a description of a casual fling either. He’d just have to wait and see how this went; this evening first and then the rest...  
  
Draco wasn’t’ entirely sure how he made it to the table. He was semi-aware of himself blabbing, making unimportant small talk, but all he was really conscious of was that his hand was still resting up against a broad muscled back under a pretence of showing Weasley the way and the redhead did nothing to have it removed. He was a mere arm’s length away from that heavenly body he'd worshipped since he was a teenager and it was making his head spin to be able to inhale his warm masculine scent. Getting through this evening was proving harder and…  _harder_ , literally as well. Their private lounge came all too quickly and when his fingers finally let go of the hot muscles moving underneath them, they felt as if they’d lost something precious and immediately itched to get it back.  
  
He had him sit down and saw Ron cock an eyebrow at the sight of the tiny table.   
  
”Clearly those were not made to hold my mother’s dishes! ” he mumbled and the Slytherin rolled his eyes up in spite of his promise to himself to be on his best behaviour tonight   –  _honestly_ , Weasley and his humongous appetite were a love story on its own!  
  
When the waiter discretely delivered their menu lists, Draco – always the son of his mother, the perfect hostess – did what he'd known he would inevitably have to do as soon as he'd picked out this place for dining.   
  
“Do take these things away, Antoine, if you please,” he said to the elderly waiter, not unkindly, but with an unmistakable air of someone who is used to giving orders. “We will have none of that confusing French fodder this time, we don’t want to scare our guest celebrity away, do we? Weasley, what do you feel like tonight? Is there any food in the world you ever wanted to try?” he looked him in the eye and it took a moment for Ron to understand what the worldly youth did right there: no doubt he would have made a fool of himself trying to decipher an incomprehensible menu and the blond subtly came to his rescue.   
  
Ron felt a curious mixture of embarrassment and gratitude run over his body and before he could stop himself he felt his lips stretch into one of those smiles that he just  _knew_  were going to knock the breath out the Slytherin: “Can I have anything I want? Because  _you_ , for example, look absolutely  _delicious_ …”   
  
 _It was so worth it._  Draco suddenly seemed to have stopped breathing, his cheeks flushed and his silver eyes shone like new-born stars and he  _did_  look downright edible. Ron saw his slim fingers hold on the edges of the table to get a grip and it somehow made him feel happy and alive. Another naughty look into the grey eyes, then he blinked innocently and looked at the shocked waiter: “I’ll have some fish and chips, Antoine, thank you very much.”  
  
Draco didn’t know whether he was going to pass out or laugh himself into insanity. This was just so like Weasley: the man really _didn’t give a fuck,_   _did he_?! First he slowly fucked him with those incredible eyes and that undoing bone-melting smile until he almost lost it right there and then he went and ordered England’s most blue-collar food - a Muggle specialty at that! - in the world’s most prestigious wizarding restaurant. And just looking across the table at all that hot life and joy he felt bubbling inside a beautiful wild creature wreaking havoc in this porcelain shop of the rich and well-bred made him want to sink down to his knees in front of him and just drink the juices out of that incredible man. God, how he  _yearned_  to touch him, to sink into him, to  _claim_  him…  
  
He called in years of drill in self-control and managed to stop himself from launching at the redhead, but he couldn’t erase the light and smile from his grey eyes when he looked at the stunned waiter and ordered in a matter-of-fact voice: “You heard the gentleman, Antoine. I’ll have the same,” he added, for once willing to jump off a cliff holding his hand and it earned him another one of those breath-taking smiles.  
  
The waiter, who was used to the whims of the rich and spoiled, merely hung his head obediently, but when he turned away he couldn’t avoid cocking an eyebrow at the thought of what on Merlin’s Earth besieged the classy Mr. Malfoy to  _ever_  go for such plebeian food!? And that impressive redheaded man… Mr. Malfoy referred to him as a celebrity and he was sure he’s seen him before; he looked so familiar - except that he was equally certain that he’d never seen him set foot in this restaurant! He knew better than to ponder over the words that the ginger devil said to Mr. Malfoy right before he ordered – he was not the first and probably not the last to court the wealthy youth, though others had been… perhaps a bit more  _tactful_.   
  
Either way, he was paid to be discreet and it was none of his business what the esteemed guests got up to once they left – in the end he would be the one paying the ultimate price in losing his job, if information like this ever got out! Right now it seemed like a good idea to remove himself from the table as quickly as possible before he got more orders that would inevitably earn him deafening yelling in the kitchen from the outraged chef.  
  
And just when he headed off towards the direction of the kitchen, he was stopped in his track by a young man with sparkling green eyes and incredibly tousled raven hair, who spoke with inherent authority: “ _A word_ , if you please…”  
  
You would have to be deaf, blind and possibly dead not to know who this man was and for once in his long career, Antoine forgot himself: “You’re  _Harry Potter_!” he blurted out in awe and the second the words were out he knew he'd just made a great professional blunder. The young man rocked himself on the balls of his feet nervously and answered somewhat impatiently: “Well, yes, I’ve been told that since birth and it seems to be true. However, this is irrelevant for this particular evening. I was wondering if you could help me with something…”   
  
“Anything for you, Sir,” Antoine tried to sound obliging, very eager to make the most influential wizard of the generation forget his unprofessional behaviour.  
  
“Thank you,” the young wizard relaxed with a warm smile, unusually kind and looked him in the eye as one person to another – and that was all it took for Antoine to call himself Harry Potter’s man. No one ever looked at him like that at his work before. To the regulars he was just a piece of restaurant furniture; they knew his name, to be sure, just like they know the names of complicated and delicate cutlery, but this young man, the prodigy of the wizarding world, looked at him like his grandchildren did, warm and trusting, and suddenly Antoine understood how Harry Potter had got to be who he was. He was not just a famous name, a poster child, a character from the History of Hogwarts, he was an actual breathing human being who radiated incredible authority and a strange vulnerability at the same time. He was as down-to-earth as they came and the old waiter instantly felt a strange sense of loyalty.   
  
“As I was about to say: this is my first time in your lovely restaurant and I’m afraid I don’t know my way around it just yet as well as I’d like to. Would you be so kind as to direct me towards the private lounges?” Harry proceeded to ask politely, but his words still made the old waiter’s body stiff with inconvenience. What the raven-haired youth asked, was, of course, entirely _impossible_  and out of the question. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to oblige the kind young man, made Antoine extremely uncomfortable, but he knew that this would be his last hour on the job if he humoured him.   
  
“I’m  _very_  sorry, Sir,” he replied politely, trying to put as much of honest regret into his words as he could. “It is absolutely forbidden to take anyone there that doesn’t have a reservation, Sir! Perhaps another night…”  
  
“Oh, no, you misunderstood me,” smiled Harry as friendly as he could muster – he didn’t expect this to be easy and he came prepared. “I don’t wish to occupy any of your private lounges, I merely spotted a very old friend and I wish to drop by and say my “ _hello_ ”s. I think he would be terribly upset if he read in tomorrow’s newspaper that I was here with my wife, his sister, and hadn’t bothered to pay him any attention. Perhaps you have seen him - I suppose he is almost impossible to miss – the name is Ronald Weasley, he’s very tall, has shockingly bright ginger hair, and is possibly a guest of Mr. Malfoy – does that ring a bell?”   
  
Antoine slowly relaxed – if the young celebrity wasn’t going to throw a screaming fit for not being given his own private lounge and he was merely here to see a friend, Ronald Weasley… Now he remembered where he knew the young man’s face from, he was one of the Golden trio, how could he have missed it?! His astonishing face was all over the posters in his granddaughter’s bedroom, the place was  _covered_  in them! Well, it  _was_  a highly unorthodox wish, but perhaps he could make an exception for someone as special as Mr. Potter meeting an old friend.   
  
“Well, Sir,” he started kindly “it is not a usual request as I’m sure you understand – after all, the private lounges are called private for a reason and they are mostly occupied when our guests don’t wish to be disturbed – but if it is a very old friend I suppose there cannot be much damage done if I – perhaps  _not take_  you there, but  _point you out_  where to go?”  
  
Harry didn’t bother correcting the old man on all that “ _cannot be much damage done_ ” business as he was obviously trying his hardest to oblige him; he merely nodded gratefully and listened carefully to Antoine’s instructions. Once complete, he thanked him profusely, signed a napkin for his grand-daughter upon request and left him with a tip that made the old waiter’s jaw hit the floor.  
  
When he'd arrived to the restaurant with his wife, Harry had missed seeing Ron by mere moments, which was just as well, because he probably wouldn't have been able to stop himself from launching head-on into a massive scandal – and right before the eyes of that annoying Skeeter character. This way he at least appeared relaxed when he made sure Ginny got her moments in the spotlight, smiling and kissing her thoroughly, and then proceeded to take her to the best table available – he didn’t bother with the private lounge as he knew she was eager to be seen by as many people as possible. She was positively sun-bathing in her husband’s fame and public display of affection and he could hardly take it against her – he didn’t take her out and spoil her nearly often enough as she deserved as his wife. It was just…  _he wasn’t in love with her_  and parading their marriage in public was just a tedious task, performed to appease her.  
  
His proverbial luck struck again and as soon as he sat down next to Ginny and started discretely looking around to spot another familiar fiery head, there were cries of recognition and Luna Lovegood floated in to join them by the table. As it was, she was writing a piece on England’s most common locations to spot a –  _godknowswhat_ , a creature whose name Harry couldn’t repeat if his life depended on it – but maybe it was only an excuse for Luna to spend a lovely night out with her fiancée, a fellow strange-creatures enthusiast by the name of Rolf Scamander. She certainly could afford it, with the Quibbler sales soaring as they did. The girls hadn’t seen each other in months and seemed eager to do all the catching up in the next hour – and that was just what Harry needed. He mumbled something about seeing an old friend and went about to find his mark.  
  
When he'd got the information out of the old waiter, he cautiously returned to the table to check on Ginny in case she felt abandoned. There was no saying what his temperamental wife might do when annoyed! But much to his relief she was so immersed in her conversation with Luna, that she hardly noticed when he got up to leave again.  _It was time for confrontation_.  
  
As Harry headed for the private lounge in question, his mind was empty. He didn’t know what he was going to see and how he was going to react as this was hardly planned. But he didn’t finish off Voldemort by exactly planning to kill him, did he, it just sort of happened and it made Harry Potter trust his luck and his ability to improvise.   
  
He stopped dead in front of the private lounge he was instructed to find Ron in and he ran his fingers through his hair nervously. _What was he doing_? He didn’t know and frankly, he didn’t bother to look for excuses. He was here to stop Ron from doing something stupid and irreversible - with Malfoy  _of all people_ , the one person they both loved to hate! – and he didn’t care about how this looked and that he had questionable right at best to do this.  _Ron was his_ , he always was and if Malfoy wanted to take him out to dinner, he bloody well better  _ask his permission_! Not that he would ever give it…   
  
He opened the door softly without bothering to knock first and his heart dropped in a chasm at the sight.  
  
Ron was sitting opposite from Malfoy, a table between them loaded with – was that  _fish and chips_!? – but the piece of marble furniture, as expensive looking as it was, did nothing to keep them apart. The Slytherin’s eyes were closed and he was breathing out in soft short puffs as if he was trying to keep back the strained sounds and two of the delicate fingers of his right hand were immersed in Ron’s silken mouth. The redhead’s eyes were half closed, making him look every bit like a big ginger cat enjoying her meal and Harry could see his skilled gentle tongue softly sucking on the sensitive fingertips, slowly whirling around them and licking with merciless tenderness. There was so much sexual tension in the air, one could almost feel the infectious tide of arousal crawling all over the blond’s body.   
  
Oh, yeah, Harry knew exactly how Draco Malfoy felt in that moment. Ron was the world-class master of tongue luxuries and the raven-haired youth was all too familiar with the undoing feeling under that heavenly torturous muscle… Just watching them started a slow pool of fire in his loins that only that same blasphemous mouth had the power to put out. And it drove him insane.  
  
~    
  
To say that things had escalated quickly once Antoine disappeared with their order, was a bit of an understatement. Just a bit.  _A big_   _fucking bit_. As soon as he was gone, Ron asked softly:   
  
“Why did you go and do that?” Draco wasn’t sure if he was asking him about getting rid of the menu or ordering the same food as he did, but he didn’t really have an answer to either and he just shrugged: “Oh, you know, it’s good manners. My mother’s drill – always make the guest feel like he belongs.”  
  
“ _Belongs_ … right,” smiled Ron, the expression on his face soft and predatory at the same time, if that was even possible. Draco felt a lump in his throat form as he found himself so at the mercy of those smiling blue eyes staring at him in feigned innocence. “ _Damn you_ , Weasley, you impossible bastard,” he thought helplessly and knew he wouldn’t trade the feeling for the world.   
  
But the redhead was on a roll and clearly found it amusing to keep on knocking the breath out of him. He leaned forward towards him and asked with a voice made of honey: “And is that what I am to you, Malfoy… Draco? A guest, someone who comes and goes and will never be asked to… stay?  _Just a guest_ …?”   
  
His presence was so intoxicating he might as well be fucking him. Draco was rendered speechless by the proximity of that incredible addictive scent and found himself without a response, well at least without the  _words_  to respond as his  _body_  was busy responding like crazy. He felt himself getting undressed by that intense feral stare behind the silken ginger eyelashes and it took everything out of him just to hold back a small moan when the redhead bit his lower lip gently and the sharp white teeth shone through.  
  
“How, then, would you call it?  _Us_?” the blond finally managed, voice hoarse and barely above the whisper as he could hardly remember that English was his mother tongue.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know…” said Ron almost dreamily and smiled a slow blissful grin, looking every bit like a soft ginger kitten toying with its prey.“ _Partners_ , perhaps… for now?” his hand suddenly slipped forward and long fingers slid down Draco’s cheek. The grey eyes closed at the unexpected intimate sensation and the Slytherin’s mouth went dry. Sweet mother of God,  _that was it_. He was going to push the table away and take him right there, he couldn’t hold back any longer.   
  
What remained of his sanity was saved by Antoine entering with their food and setting it on the table with every bit as much complication as was due for a far more elaborate dish. It gave the Slytherin a few precious moments to catch his breath, but did nothing to stir down his arousal.  _What was the crazy Gryffindor trying to do to him?!_ Give him a heart attack besides the mother of all hard-ons?! Was he entirely unable to keep a  _meaningless conversation_?! How was he ever going to –  _ohhhh_ ….  
  
Casually, as if it was the most common thing in the world one of Ron’s long arms sneaked under an expensive tablecloth and a hand crawled up his thigh, strong fingers sliding gently until they found their mark and brushed against his strained erection. And Draco saw stars. He sunk his teeth into his lip not to cry out, but he was unable to stop the shiver that pushed him further into that divine hand doing a devil’s work.   
  
The redhead calmly looked up to the elderly waiter and said with a matter-of-fact politeness: “That will be all, Antoine. We’ll take it from here.”  
  
Just looking at the young Mr. Malfoy who was transfixed by the redhead with a devilish glow in his sparkling blue eyes told Antoine that his presence was no longer required. He bowed shortly and walked away as quickly as his dignity allowed. On his way out he couldn’t help but let a small smile spread across his face. By the looks of it, the young Mr. Malfoy was in for  _quite a ride_  tonight.  
  
As soon as the waiter was gone, so was Ron’s hand and Draco whimpered at the loss. “ _What the fuck_ …” he hissed. “You can’t go and do that to me…”  
  
“Oh, how about we take it slow…  _partner_ ,” said Ron softly and suddenly his big hand covered Draco’s and took hostage of the fingers. “Nothing like a slow fire, Malfoy, to have yourself burnt to ashes… And you’re burning right now, I can tell… I believe you tried to teach me something today… a lesson… when burnt... apply moisture,” he said with deadly gentleness and slowly lifted Draco’s hand towards his mouth. He licked two of his fingers probingly and when Draco exhaled tightly, desperately trying to keep control of himself, he whispered in his low incredibly sexy voice: “Oh, and you  _are_  hot and burning, Malfoy… hottest thing on the planet… I’ve been thinking about fucking you the whole day… Draco,” he sighed before he took his fingers in his mouth and began working them with his tongue. The blond man fell off the surface of the earth and Ron loved him for it. He knew he was taking him apart and it was just how he wanted it.  
  
And that’s how Harry Potter found them.  
  
~  
  
Harry just stood there for a while, unable to move for he was sure he would come apart if he did. How could this be? How could Ron do that to him?! What had he done to lose him like that, to Malfoy of all people? Was Ron really so hurt, so determined to make a point, so hungry for love he was willing to take it from just about the first person that came along? Harry  _loved_  him, didn’t he know?! Perhaps he’d never really said it out loud, but it was a given: he’s been in love with him ever since he knew something like love existed. It was never anyone but Ron for him. Was it such a crime to want a family, the children he couldn’t give him no matter how much they cared for each other? How come he couldn’t understand what he was doing to Harry? He felt every bit like a man broken, just loosely connected pieces ready to fall apart at the slightest intervention.  
  
“Ron,” he called quietly, but his mouth was so dry nothing came out of it. “ _Ron_!” he tried again, this time louder, determined to be heard; determined to stop this abomination of his Ron giving himself to another person. It was Malfoy who opened his eyes in shock and stared at him as if he couldn’t believe he was real.   
  
“Potter,” he said bluntly as if he was trying to discern if he was merely a figment of his imagination, but Ron, his Ron, did nothing. The long ginger eyelashes closed completely for a long moment and then he slowly let Malfoy’s hand go.   
  
“Harry,” he said softly. “I thought you might come here.” Draco stared from one to the other with disbelief in his eyes and Ron smiled, but it was a sad lonely smile: “Oh, yeah… I knew he’d try. Ever since you let it slip we were going to meet, I knew he was going to try his hardest to be here… Never underestimate the resourcefulness of one Harry Potter, the man is a legend after all…” he said almost mockingly and then turned around and bored his stare into his best mate: “What did you do? Called every restaurant in town to see where he made reservation? Nah, too time consuming. Put a tracing charm on one of us? Not even you are quick enough for that! Or did you go and break into his file, Potter? That was it, wasn’t it? Oh, I know you, Potter, there’s _nothing_  you wouldn’t do to get what you want!”  
  
His blue eyes suddenly flashed wildly and he hissed in anger: “But you know what, Potter?! You  _don’t know_  what you want, not this time. You think you can have it all, yet you don’t want what I have to give. My heart, Harry, I would have given you my heart if only you asked for it. But you can’t ask, can you?! And you won’t.   
You’re always demanding, taking, never asking as you should ask for someone’s heart; get down on your fucking knees and ask, Harry, cause that’s the only way to ask for the heart of the one you love! Cause they’re your whole world and some and it’s not a shame. But I’m not your whole world, am I, Harry? I’ll never be, cause there are children’s illusions to keep up, a wife to please and a perfect image to uphold. Well, fuck that, Harry, fuck your perfect little world! I don’t want to be your dirty little secret anymore. Maybe with a wife and a family and me on the side you’ve got everything you ever wanted, but I need more, Harry. I need someone to complete me, just me, to make me feel whole. To look me in the eye and tell me they would sell their soul for me, to make me feel like I’m all they’ll ever need. And you won’t be that man, you’ve made that perfectly clear!”   
  
“ _But neither can he_!” finally erupted Harry, recognising the truth for what it was and, as helpless as he felt, taking out all his anger and frustration on the person that – he was certain - deserved it. “He doesn’t love you, Ron, he never will even if he knew how! He’s only using you to hurt you! He knows you’re angry and lonely and he’s just being  _a fucking dick_  as always, playing all your weaknesses… He’s a bloody Malfoy, Ron, the person who never did anything but chewed at your soul and he will do it again, I know he will and I will  _fucking kill him_  for it, but please,  _please_  Ron, don’t let him come between us! He’s  _nothing_ ,  _a_ _nobody_ , he’s not worth your time, he’s not the one…”  
  
“Oh, is that so, Potter?” Draco Malfoy suddenly got up from behind the table, the look in his grey eyes hard as steel and his voice so cold it send a chill around the tiny room. “And you would know that because - ? Perhaps because you’re the same cold-hearted bastard that keeps this man here from ever finding love just because you’re a holy fucking prodigy and everything is yours to have?! How would you know how I feel!? Did you ever bother to ask? Well, let me tell you something about me and my _intentions_ , Potter, since you’re such a know-it-all!   
I’ve been in love – yes, in love, don’t give me that look! – I’ve been in love with this man ever since I knew love had a place in this world. True, I didn’t know it for the longest time, because once you’re bred a Malfoy, recognizing love is not set very highly on your priority list. I was raised to hate him, everything about him and I was all set on hating him from the start. Except he knocked me off my feet and somehow love happened instead of hate and I still don’t know how and it has left me confused, bothered and frustrated for the longest time. But I’ll have you know he’s been the only person for me since I was fucking 11 years old, so don’t give me that “ _he doesn’t love you_ ” shit. And I will tell you something about this love that will probably make me lose this man, but much like him – I’m tired of keeping secrets.”  
  
For a long moment he looked at Ron with curious sadness as if he was saying goodbye and indeed seemed to have reached a decision.  _All or nothing… for you_ , he thought to himself, then went back to staring into the livid green eyes of his rival and spoke.  
  
“ _I_ made this happen,” he said clearly and when he saw the confusion and lack of understanding on the Gryffindor’s face he elaborated. “I made  _this_  happen, the whole  _mess_  you’re living in. I saw you two kissing in the Ministry corridor and I knew this was my chance. I was in love with Ron for so long I was willing to do anything,  _any bloody thing_  to win me my window of opportunity. And I decided this was going to be it. I went to the Mud… to his wife and dropped a hint – I knew she won’t be able to ignore it once it came out of my mouth. The pretending that her life was perfect was over and she couldn’t  _stand_  it, that I knew. Of course, at first, she claimed that I lied, so I let her in my head, Potter –  _I let her use legilimency on me_  and I didn’t care what else she might see in there as long as she couldn’t say this wasn’t real. I knew she wouldn’t be able to let it go, knowing that I knew.   
And when your lives and your lies exploded around you, I waited patiently, as I have done all these years. I knew that something had to give and it surprised me, Potter, it was  _you_. Cause this man here, the one you claim for yourself, was not willing to sell you out as eagerly as you let him hang in there all by himself. And believe me, that pained me and for a while there I thought I’d played it all and lost. But it turned out I only needed to wait for him to realize what I long before knew –  _that you were not good enough for him_ , though you always treated him the other way around. As far as I go, he’s not your side kick – you’re the one who’s not worthy to clean his shoes. How could you throw love like this away,  _you fool!?_  
Anyway – the moment I heard he transferred - and yes, I paid good money to be the first one to know – I asked for a transfer myself. Oh,  _don’t give me that look_ , Weasley, I know I told you some fool thought it was a good idea to pair me off with you, but trust me, that  _fool_  got handsomely paid for it! I would have done anything to get near you… so I did,” he shrugged, suddenly looking tired but defiant.   
  
“So don’t tell me, Potter, this isn’t love! True, it’s my version of it, a twisted Malfoyian way to love, but it’s the only way I know. I do love this man, I love him far more you’ll ever be able to comprehend and you have no idea of the lengths I’m willing to go to prove that to him.”  
  
“I  _told_  you this bastard was all poison!” hissed Harry, about an inch away from hexing Malfoy into nothingness. “He ruined our lives and he’s fucking proud about it, too! You need to get away from him, Ron, get away from him now! Come back to me and let me handle this…”   
  
“Oh, I know how to  _handle_  this alright,” said the redhead quietly and stood up so abruptly that the marble table almost toppled over. Without another word he grabbed Harry by one wrist and Malfoy by the other and all but dragged them out of the private lounge and into the direction of the public dining area. Harry had a mind to resist, but he knew Ron better than that – if the redhead wanted him somewhere he would carry him there if needed. But Draco followed quietly, doing his best to keep up with the angry stride of Ron’s long legs. When they could already see the tables at the edge of the public dining area, Ron stopped as suddenly as he started and looked around.   
  
“You’re here with Ginny, aren’t you?” he asked, his eyes scanning the crowd. “I know my little sister wouldn’t let you out of her sight and she’s far too eager to be seen with you to pass up on a chance like that.”  
  
“What are you doing, Ron?” asked Harry quietly, the hairs on his neck suddenly prickling with alert at an unmistakable reflection of danger in his best mate’s eyes. People were already beginning to stare and he suddenly realized just how much he stood to lose.  
  
“Well, Harry,  _my_   _love_ , since you’ve pushed me, I thought I would do what I had no intention of doing – but you’ve left me no choice.  _I’m making you choose._  Kiss me, Harry,” Ron asked, finally letting go of his wrist and stared deeply into the green eyes he had been hoping to love since forever.   
  
Harry stared at him incredulously and finally whispered quietly: “You can’t do that to me, Ron. You know what you’re asking of me…”  
  
But the redhead for once was unrelenting: “Kiss me,” he said just as softly and kept his eyes locked on the green orbs he came to adore. “Kiss me, Harry, and I’m yours. I won’t ever look at another man or a woman if you kiss me right now. I’ll wait for you, I’ll go back to cheating and lying for you. Just do it here and now and do it right… and I’m yours.”  
  
Harry’s eyes were desperate: “Ron,  _please_ …” he whispered, but that was all the answer the redhead was willing to wait for.   
  
“I didn’t think so,” he smiled sadly and with a sense of longing in his beautiful blue eyes he turned away and looked at the blond. “Kiss me,” he said simply… and this time he was not disappointed.  
  
“Oh,  _yes_ , god,  _yes_!” whispered Draco feverishly, launching himself at redhead so desperately, that he barely managed to keep his balance. Without another word the blond cupped Ron’s face in his hands and sought out his mouth hungrily, set out to consume this god-given chance he didn’t think he was going to get. And his time seemed to have stopped when he felt the beloved soft lips open and respond. He proceeded to kiss him with all the adoration of the years lost in ignorance and hatred and for his part, he was not willing to let go. Ever again. And that seemed fine with Ron.  
  
“Ron, don’t… ” tried Harry, his voice filled with panic when he finally understood what he'd gambled away. But he never got to finish his sentence as a female voice suddenly cut through his words and he closed his green eyes in defeat.  
  
“Harry? Oh, there you are, love, I’ve been looking all over the place for you! Where on Earth have you… Ron?!” Ginny Weasley Potter followed her husband’s petrified look and finally noticed the familiar figure who held her husband's undivided attention. Her anger soared so rapidly it made her dizzy. In an instant she realized she’d been played and her husband was only here for one person… and it was not her.   
  
“You bastard!” she hissed and her hand moved rapidly to get her wand - but then her eyes registered what Harry – and the rest of the clientele - had been staring at and she lost her breath and her footing: “Sweet mother of Rowena, Ron, what are you doing?! This is no place to… Is that a man?! Is that… oh my fucking God, that’s Malfoy… “   
  
Almost reflexively Harry stretched out his arm to catch her as her legs gave way at the sight of a gorgeous tall redhead, her brother, the war hero, the household name, the teenage girls’ idol, kissing the life out of Draco Malfoy, the heir of the distinguished house of Malfoy, very much married and very much oblivious to the fact that he had a reputation to uphold.   
  
Finally Ron let go of the young man’s mouth clinging to him so desperately and looked at the two sets of eyes staring at him in disbelief.  
  
“Come back to you, Harry? Come back to what?” he said quietly, but with unmistakable edge in his voice. Harry found no words to reply and the redhead turned to his sister: “Why so surprised, Gin? This is your bastard brother giving you back your husband, just as you requested. All yours now.”   
  
He finally looked at the blond still holding on to his broad shoulders and smiled: “For you, I have different plans tonight.” And he disapparated them from the spot, leaving behind broken hearts and broken lives, no regrets.  
  
He had to know where to take this and he had to know now.


	4. Are you my reflection, sweet stranger o'mine?

When Draco apparated next to Ron, he felt his legs give way. He was dizzy; not only with suddenness of the disapparation, but heady with impossible happiness that pervaded his every sense; drunk with the sole presence of that incredible man who took possession of him and gave him a chance; in love to the last fibre of his body. He never felt so infatuated with Ron as he did in that moment and his desire must have translated to the redhead somehow, because he captured his mouth the moment they apparated. Ron was eager, demanding and downright brutal in his need to mark the blond and it was just what Draco needed; his tortured senses simply  _yearned_  to know that he was desired by this magnificent man he had come to adore.

And once he found himself under the spell of the blunt passion, radiating in waves from the hot body pressed against him, he was doomed. He was no longer the master of his own actions; Ron took over completely. 

God, if he could only stop himself from making those needy helpless sounds, but it seemed there was nothing he could do about that… His treacherous lust-possessed body was already submerged into a subtle merciless tide of giving up control to this one person that was making him forget his own name and – oh, to hell with it, keeping it silent was  _so_  overrated anyway… How could he keep it to himself how much he was enjoying being trapped by the perfect smooth muscles he felt moving under his craving fingers? How could he not let the whole world know how he was simply  _burning_  with the wonderful friction of the warm big hands rubbing that incredible manly scent into him? Ron was all over him - and still Draco was hungry for more. Because it was him.  _He_  was finally here,  _here_  to be with him; Draco was at last going to get him as he had so hopelessly craved him all those years, wasted in hostility and ignorance, and it was making his head spin just to realize this was not another empty dream, that this was really about to happen. For Draco it was all about Ron. Ron was his drug, desperately desired and completely irresistible.

“ _God_ , you’re eager…” he heard the redhead blow a soft breath against his ear; the flow of humid air coming from his mouth so hot and so arousing it made the hairs on his back stand up and sent shivers down his bones. 

“Please…” Draco whispered, unable to come up with words that would make the beautiful creature he clung to understand how much he needed this, needed him. “Please, Ron,  _now_ …”

“Yes, now… God, what else… I’ve been thinking about this the whole fucking day and what a bloody long day it was… But first you get to choose your menu, precious…” Ron’s soft voice was liquid fire and Draco was so busy falling in love with the deadly heat, that he was insensitive to the weight Ron’s words held hidden underneath.

Strong arms suddenly lifted the blond as if he was weightless and a moment later he found himself immersed into a smell of fresh linen, a sea of orange draping a huge comfortable bed, staring at a ceiling he didn’t recognise. But not for long; the beloved face swam back into his view and it was all he needed to know. Warm muscled body covered him head to toe, the scent of desire and sex all over it, and Draco felt he could die like that and never regret it. Brilliant blue eyes stared down into his grey orbs and he had no idea how beautiful being in love made him look. 

“You’re gorgeous…” whispered Ron softly and stroke the blond strands of hair off his face, before his big hands took hold of it. “I want you… I want to own you tonight, Draco… but you alone can tell me, which way you want this to go.  _This_ … is for free…” 

He kissed him, softly at first, temptingly as if enjoying the sweet juices of his mouth mingling with his own and when Draco’s mouth opened up like a flower, suddenly the deliberately gentle tongue was back, that wonderful torturing device that somehow knew all too well how to draw muffled screams out of him as he just couldn’t get deep enough into that gorgeous mouth, set on eating his desire out of his very core. At some point the white teeth drew blood in their haste, but it only put oil on the flames of his need as Draco was willing to get devoured by that fucking incredible mouth to get release. He felt himself falling apart; falling apart at the seams so fast it scared him to the bone, but it was as if something inside him was craving the feeling of surrender: every inch of his body screamed for this, pledged to this road of no return, enslaved to a desire of yielding to him, only to him. 

And then before he could do anything about it the wonderful mouth was gone and he simply whimpered. He opened his eyes to see how and why… Had he done something wrong? Had he not done enough? But he only found himself staring at the redhead with his eyes closed, breathing heavily as if trying to hold on to the last of his composure. 

“God, I need you…” Ron whispered; his voice raspy and disorientated as if he wasn’t sure what was he about to say a moment before. “As I said… this part is for free, Malfoy… I can fuck you into insanity and keep you there… I’m willing… and oh,  _goddamit_ … so ready… and I will, if that’s all you want… I do, after all, owe you one… but if you want more…”

And suddenly the blue eyes opened again and Draco found himself staring at unfathomable depth. 

“But if you want more, Draco, and as little as it may seem to the outside world, I  _do_  have much more to give… If you want me to call you by your first name, this and every other time; if you want to wake up by my side, this night and another, if you want to belong - I can’t let this be the only thing that ties us together. ”  

“ _No_ …  _yes_ … God, of course, yes,  _more_ … I want more,” Draco interrupted feverishly, suddenly scared Ron didn’t understand the how deep and widespread were the roots of his maddening affection. “How could you not tell? How come you even have to ask? I’ve already put everything on the line for you, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do, not a thing…”

And Ron smiled. It was one of those smiles that made Draco’s heart skip a beat even when it was not meant for him – and now that it was, shining through those incredible blue eyes staring directly into his soul, Draco found his god at last. 

“Ron…” he whispered, unable to say anything else, submerged into reverence of his beauty, lost in that beautiful wild soul he felt staring back at him from those mesmerising eyes. “Anything… I’ll do anything…”

And Ron kissed him. Softly and innocently and gently as if asking for forgiveness for keeping him waiting some more. 

“I don’t want anything that’s not yours… I want something only you can give me… I want to know how you really feel about me… I want to hear you say it… not that stupid haughty Malfoyian stuff you always call me, but the real thing… your true feelings… cause I’m not looking for mindless fuck… I can have that with him… I want someone to wake up with, someone to see myself in their eyes… just like I do right now… my heart for your heart, Draco…” And he kissed him again, lovingly, devotedly, with unmistakable longing and held back anticipation.

And though Draco Malfoy, in his current state, was willing to swear he didn’t have a single coherent thought to spare, somehow his heart found a way to translate what it felt onto the tongue, as if it couldn’t wait to finally be pouring out its precious secrets:

“It hurts to love you,” he whispered, staring down those singular crystal blue eyes, voice hoarse and unstable from the overload of feelings and he didn’t know what his next words are going to be. “It hurts my heart and my body aches from wanting you so badly. I want to own you, mark you, crawl into you, become you… It wants to spill out, this overwhelming unrequited love, but it can’t because you’re not around and you don’t care and then it hurts. Malfoys were not made to yearn… and yet I do. No one else can make me feel like that… as if I’m not myself when I’m not with you, as if I’m incomplete… like being with you can fix everything that ever went wrong with me and my life. You’re it for me, you always were. The one and only.”

His narrow fingers gently embraced Ron’s face and slowly buried them into the warm golden-red mane. And he exhaled the tiniest of sighs.

“There’s nothing about you that doesn’t enchant me… The one thing I  _always_  want to do when I look at you is to sink my fingers into your silken fiery hair and warm them up because they always feel cold and empty without those soft flames of red gold wrapped around them. I’m in love separately with your hair, it’s a love story you should be jealous of,” he finally smiled softly and Ron stared at him in awe. “I want to immerse my fingers in, capture you still and just  _remember_  the moment…”

And that was just what he did. The silver grey eyes closed for a moment as if trying to store the precious memory somewhere safe behind the long silken eyelashes and it was a long moment before Draco opened them again. Ron’s face was so close, his features soft in the glow of the street-lights and a lone candle and he felt almost physical pain not being able to kiss it and own it… but this moment was for Ron and Draco finally wanted to give him everything he had, share every unbearable secret, every desperate dream. He stared down those blue eyes, reflecting the evening shadows along with the universe of feelings, and the words came of their own accord. 

“God help me… I drowned in your eyes years ago and I can’t get out… you look at me and I get soft in the knees and I struggle to no end just to keep my composure. I just want to drink that brilliant blue light out of them; they make my heart go on a rampage and now,  _right now_ , when you’re looking at me like that, I  _would_  sell my soul for you, for this moment alone. They’re so blue they make me feel clean; so captivating that I get all heady and needy and … oh, well, just another love story for you out there…” he smiled again, a sweet warm smile that made Ron’s heart beat faster and spread a flush of restless expectancy down his body, making his eyes shine with a dark deep blue glow. His lovely face reflected almost a child-like awe at such splendid words, meant for him, and it brought forward the flood of emotion and passion pouring out of Draco like nothing else could.

“And then there are those blasted freckles I lost so many words about and so many sleepless nights over,” the blond whispered feverishly, uncommonly content with the effect his words were having on the redhead, who seemed to drink them from his mouth. “So golden, so tempting against that soft milky background -and so many of them! It’s unfair for someone to have their very own stardust sprinkled upon them! They made me have all kinds of crazy sexy thoughts that would make me blush… and more… at the most inappropriate of moments. Those blasted little galaxies owe me, they owe me big… I just might have to travel to every single one of them and try to rub them off with my touch, perhaps they will leave a trail of gold in their wake and I will be rich beyond words…”

His thumbs brushed softly against the freckled face, still captured in the palms of his hands as if he was indeed trying to harvest some of the golden sprinkles that kept his imagination going places even in those moments and his heart almost jumped out of its cavity when Ron leaned down his face just a fraction and their cheeks brushed against each other… Oh, the redhead knew how to play this game, he knew all too well for Draco’s remaining sanity and when the warm body pressed into him invitingly, he ground his teeth in a desperate attempt to keep some control… but it seemed all in vain as he was growing more and more helpless in the presence of that divinely sculpted body and its maddening scent of sex and need. 

“Sweet Merlin, Ron… I can’t do this much longer…” he moaned in his misery and was punished with the strong body suddenly pressing against him and rubbing gently so he could feel his hardness and he almost lost it right there and then. But then he saw a glint of mischief in those provoking blue eyes and he knew it was deliberate… and it sparked his spite and he wanted to finish this properly, just because he was Draco bloody Malfoy and he _could_  tell the love of his life how he felt about him!

“Oh, don’t you  _dare!_ ” he almost hissed in his effort to keep himself from dissolving entirely in the presence of that intoxicating man, bringing him impossibly close to his desire to simply surrender. “You’re  _not_  getting me started on those endless legs and muscled body, you’re not! I can’t stand it, Ron, I just…  _can’t_..  not right now, when I’m so close to you, too close for words alone. I’ve been dreaming about those long legs forever, getting lost between them in countless of ways; I’ve got in every single brawl with you desperate to feel those incredible muscles wrap around me and it has  _always_  left me dizzy and hard and hungry for more… 

I couldn’t stop thinking about you for days after an encounter like that, I was obsessed, possessed, simply  _burning_ for you to touch me again… You’re just a goddamn symphony of sex when you move, you have no idea what you do to me… I’ve been worshiping your body in my daydreams and my midnight fantasies for ages… the things I do to you… that I’ve already done to you in my mind, ohhh… I guess I’ll just have to show you;  _God_ , I wish you’d let me…” he moaned and closed his eyes, cause he could come on the spot just from watching his own hungry reflection in those blue eyes, suddenly filled with a mixture of awed innocence and subtle invitation to make good on his words. 

But he couldn’t… not just yet. What he had said… it might have been enough for Ron, he could tell that from the redhead’s body language tempting him closer, well into the lethal depth of that warm sexy embrace and then there would be no way back and they would never be said, those word Draco still needed to say. Because what he had to say had nothing to do with the crippling desire almost paralysing his senses, and everything to do with the overwhelming love he’d felt for this man for too long. He had told him why he wanted him, not why he loved him. Not yet. And he wanted to, so badly, that he collected the last of his wits about him, looked him straight in the eye and spoke softly: 

“But when I thought I saw it all and you were already perfect, you gave me that incredible soul-melting smile this morning and – you know, you never really smiled at me before? You smirked and you laughed at me, but you only ever smiled at other people and I never knew how it felt… until this morning, when it was all for me and it was all brilliant and gentle and sexy… I lost the floor under my feet and my mind with that smile and now there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep seeing it; to wake up to my very own daily fix of sunlight and happiness, to close my eyes to the memory of it. It reflects your heart like nothing else could and I  _can’t_  settle for anyone else after seeing the depths behind that smile, the sun-lit universe of your heart. I don’t need legilimency to see what’s in that heart, Ron, you just need to smile and it’s all there... and when you do, it feels like you’ve let me in and my world becomes a brighter place.

And if I come to think I was all set on going through my life in darkness, desolate, just like my father, never knowing how it felt to wake up and feel alive and happy and angry and… just to feel… but along comes one freckled Ron Weasley and the frozen expanse that was to be my life was never the same again….  _You_ … you have no idea… you start me up with that fiery temper of yours like no one else can… you light me up and make my flames roar and I could go on for days on our single encounter. You make me feel alive, you make me feel like I matter; you make me see how vulnerable I really am and how wonderful I could be with you by my side. I worship you, I adore you, I love you far beyond these colourless words… You define me in so many ways I  _have no_  words to explain, so please, please Ron, let me have that heart of yours… you promised…”

He couldn’t hold back anymore, Ron was staring at him with those unfathomable eyes suddenly full of stars and Draco kissed him, desperately, hopefully, to the point of no return, knowing that he'd just played all of his cards and he had nothing to fall back to. 

“Sweet Merlin…” whispered Ron feverishly between long hungry kisses he suddenly found unable to resist. “I never knew you could talk like that… I never knew  _anyone_  could talk like that… to say those things you only read in poems… and could never really pour into words yourself…” he breathed softly into the blond’s soft insatiable mouth, still mesmerized and not a little touched by the confession of this man’s heart that opened its treasures in front of him so unexpectedly. “But you can, Draco… you bought your chance at my heart, bought and sold…“

His mouth moved to worship every inch of the perfect aristocratic skin and he was revelling in a feeling that it was him who was making it flush hot and glow with warmth. He sucked his chin gently and leaned over to his ears to spoil him with his soft breath and sweet mouth and tell him in detail just how he’s going to  _love_  taking him apart.

“God, you have no idea how much you just made me want you… and I can’t be stopped when I want something,.. and you… you should be beyond my reach… you’re just so exquisite tonight… so splendid and breath-taking… wish you could see yourself… and you’re all mine to have… my piece of art…. I always knew you were beautiful… I just thought all that beauty was wasted on someone so vile… I used to be jealous… of your perfect skin, of your grace and all that cold sexy style… you made my temper rise and passion soar just by showing up and yet I never recognised it for what it could be, because I’m every bit as oblivious as everyone tells me that I am.

And yet, it survived, this passion… it survived your breeding and our hatred and now it’s time… now I just want to consume it… I want to take this unblemished haughty marble façade of yours and break it apart… piece by piece… until the true you emerges… raw and wanting and mine… someone I could brand with my love… I want to take all the years of your restraint and smash it into fractions until none of it remains and the only thing that's left is that craving need that will make you beg… beg for me, Draco…”

“Ron, no… oh, godfuckingdamn you… fucking please…yesss…. you… only you… take me, don’t make me wait… no more… please…” Draco begged, when the soft tongue outlined the shell of his ear, just like Ron hoped he would and it was bursting the redhead’s loins open to see the savage look glitter from the slits of brilliant silver eyes.

“Yessss, oh yeah… just like that…. You beautiful blond angel… you gorgeous hot needy bitch… I’m going to drag you to hell and ride you into the skies… I’m going to tear you to pieces fucking you and lick the magic oozing out of you… and then I’m going to fill you with  _me_  and  _my magic_  until you’re full to the brim and you can’t take anymore… There will be none of you left when I’m done with you… you’ll become me, one with me, my everything, just like you wanted…”

Draco shivered at the feeling of Ron’s mouth closing around the pulse on his neck, his teeth sinking in to graze the skin, as if the redhead indeed wanted to drink the very life out of him, and it elicited a loud yelp of pain-gone-pleasure from the blond. As if startled by his cry, Ron slowly pulled away to sit back on his heels, only to look straight into his eyes and smile darkly, sending his head spinning. His long strong fingers caught his robes by the neck and with a raspy “ _we won’t be needing those_ ”, began tearing the expensive fabric as it was made of cobweb. Draco just lay there, his heart beating like a drum, unable to tear his eyes away from the blue predatory light in those eyes, silently praying Ron would like what he was putting on display with so much abandon. He knew he wouldn’t doubt himself with anyone else around, after all, he’d worked hard for the body he had, but this was Ron, this was different and if he didn’t like it… He felt his eyes slip down his slender form, taking in the detail, the long lean softly-defined muscles, unmarred marble skin, scars from Potter’s  _Sectumsempra!_ , an unmistakeable arousal… 

Draco’s breath hitched when he felt him move closer, his body-heat engulfed him and he finally heard him whisper: “Oh,  _yeah_ … that’s what I’m talking about….you’re just  _perfect_ , aren’t you… gorgeous… all mine,..” And Draco softly exhaled his insecurity along with the last of his solid thoughts.

Ron could feel him writhing underneath, desperate with desire, on edge of sanity and hard as rock - and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to give it to him hard and fast. He had enough of this, his subtle, deliberate dance of eliciting the Slytherin’s desire and keeping its flames burn slowly, just a breath away from being consumed. The slow game of seduction finally took its toll on the passionate ginger and he knew he needed this just as badly as the blond did. He needed to see Draco Malfoy come undone for him, crying out his name, screaming for more… The insecure boy inside him was greedy to see the beautiful cold dismissing youth from his past fall apart in front of him helplessly, giving his all.  _To him_ , of all people. 

So from one moment to the other his gentle exploration transformed and he descended onto him like a vulture, hungry and rough, nothing short of brutal, and oh, so  _right_ , that Draco saw stars when the big calloused hands grabbed him and pulled him under and that soft generous mouth he’s been yearning for so long, finally came to his rescue. Before he could help it, his beautiful lean torso was stretched like a splendid white sail in Ron’s hands, burning and bursting with overwhelming desire, but for once Ron wasn’t giving into his half-stuttered pleas. 

“I have to remember you like this,” he whispered while the big over-whelming hands slid down Draco’s body tensely, his thumbs drawing slow seductive circles, closing in on his hip-bones, as if he wanted to own every inch of this perfect milky skin. “I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful,” he stared at him, fucking him slowly with his astonishing eyes, his gentle touch now expertly tracing down the defined muscles, until the once-marble surface was flushed pink and looked like it was bursting with life.

He kept his dark blue eyes on his face, then leaned over him slowly, licked down his neck, sucked gently on his pulse and let the delectable mouth close over his nubs. Draco shivered under the gentle ministrations of the wonderful warm tongue, but when the rough fingers joined in for the contrast, he could no longer stop himself from crying out. God, the man was making him come… nibbling sweetly on the sensitive peaks, teeth pulling gently and scraping lightly until they were about to burst open… but the redhead felt how close he was getting and stopped just short of sending the moaning young man over the edge. Desperately digging his fingers into the silken hair, trying to keep it in place to finish the job, Draco could not remember ever being so torn in half between pleasure and its denial. Mindlessly rubbing himself at whatever part of his body he could reach, lost for words, just exhaling short hot puffs of air, he was ready to come, ready as he was ever going to be... and then the _fucking_   _cursed_  mouth moved away and he was once again staring Ron in the face. 

Covered from head to toe with a thin shimmer of sweat, his heart almost bursting from his chest and his muscles trembling with overwhelming desire Draco looked every bit ready to be fucked into screaming and about three seconds from coming. Ron bit his lower lip and smiled one of his god-sexy smiles that always spelled mischief: “You’re never gonna last, precious... I’ll give you what you can handle... and the rest later...”

And then the hungry demanding mouth once again sunk down the blond’s body like a serpent, looking for every vulnerable spot they could find and wreaking havoc of pleas and unrestrained cries in its path as Draco was desperately trying to get it to stay at the most sensitive of places.  _God_ , he needed this... how could he ever have lived without it so long... all his life felt like a road taking him here, into this moment under the perfect soft mouth, adoring his skin, licking gently and somehow still leaving bruises all over his body; not holding back on the greedy hard kisses and sharp white teeth set on heightening his pleasure to the brink of pain, just the way he loved it, until he was nothing but a quivering mess and desperately begging:

“Ronronronron,now… please,  _now_ … fuck me… take me, motherfucking  _please_ …. whatever… finish me, ohmyfuckinggod, finish me, please…”

And finally hot generous wetness touched him  _there_ , right there where he needed him the most; just a slow long luxurious lick of that soft skilled tongue designed to tear a cry from the bottom of his throat and then a sudden dive into the depths of the delicious mouth, the impossible friction of wet tight softness finally surrounding his leaking cock, taking without asking - and his body surrendered without further ado.

Once again sinking his long fingers into that warm fiery hair, Draco fell prey to the ancient frantic rhythm his body remembered from the beginnings of time and he began riding it with a scream. Caught in the web of his desire, his hips rocking back and forth with an unstoppable pace, he was finally fucking that incredible mouth with all the eagerness of frustrated years and hopeless dreams and he lost himself entirely inside that velvety hot cave. Reduced to incoherent yelps of his name and shameless begging for “ _moremoremore, oh please, Ron, godmore”_ he was climbing the waves of his own pleasure until he could take no more and the wonderful pressure building from his very core almost tore him apart. 

And that was when the big hands closed behind his back, stilling him momentarily, and Ron locked his crystal blue eyes with his silver orbs. The predatory look in his eyes was unforgettable, food for Draco’s tossing off for years to come, and a moment later the redhead let him slide out of his divine mouth just to send a hot breath and a whisper of over his begging cock: 

“Come for me, Draco… come inside me, beautiful…”

And that was all it took.  The gorgeous mouth closed around him once again and he lost control and the rest of his brain. Cursing and screaming, he was unable to hold back anything that was on his mind and before he knew the bottom of his loins exploded and he was shooting years of overdue load inside the welcoming mouth, yelping mindlessly: “Oh, god... yesssss, like that... ohgodohgodohgod... you crazy motherfucker, eat me... Ron, please…suck me… fuck, I love you, Ron… god, I love you… yesss, godrongodyes… love…you…” 

He was stuttering, almost crying with incredible release, his fingers desperately tangled in the silky strands of warm hair that was his only grip in this newfound world. He felt like he was coming for hours, unable to tear himself away from the god-like feeling of being on top of the world with the one person that could put him there. 

He swam into consciousness slowly, dizzy and incredibly tender with an overload of sensations and found himself just where he most wanted to be, sheltered under that magnificent body that could send him over the edge with its scent alone. He just lay there, completely empty and happy with a warm weight of his lover’s body above him, his fingers still sunk into that golden mess of red hair until just thinking of what had been done to him, brought a dreamy smile onto his lips. The shady images of what just happened slowly swam into his mind’s eye and it only took the memory of it to get his juices flowing again. And that’s when it sunk in… He opened his eyes and stared at Ron in disbelief. The redhead never finished taking his own clothes off, but it was not for the lack of interest - Draco could clearly feel the rock-hard bulge pressing against his crotch and Ron was lying perfectly still with his eyes closed, breathing heavily as if trying to hold on to the last of his restraint.

Draco’s hands moved in as if startled awake, suddenly itching to touch him, to reveal him because he was just desperate to see more of him; to relieve him just like he could feel him wanting to be relieved. 

“Don’t...” said Ron quietly, his voice deep and rich and full with tension. “Don’t... not now... if you touch me now, I’m gonna fucking rape you, cause you have no idea how you just made me feel... I’d hurt you and I don’t want that... I’m like my brother Bill sometimes... like some goddamn beast just wants to get out and I don’t want you hurt... I’d fucking rip you apart if you let me do it, so don’t... not now... I… we never learnt how to do this gently… _him_  and I… we fuck like animals… we sometimes hurt each other… and I’ve only just found you, I don’t want to scare you away..."

“You crazy ginger  _fuckwit_... “ said Draco quietly, his voice becoming more heated with anger and passion as he spoke, though there was no true malice in it. Just thinking that Ron was willing to take his passion out on Potter, but not on him, got his blood boiling to the point that he almost saw red. How dare he?! 

“You’d rather hurt yourself than me... bloody fucking noble Gryffindors... don’t you think I can stand it?! I’ve fucking  _earned_  to be hurt by you, do you hear me!? How could you think I wouldn’t want it? Cause I’m too fucking fragile, or what?! Cause you already gave it to me?! You just sucked my fucking head empty of anything I ever knew and now you won’t let me touch you!  _Fuck you, Ron Weasley_ , you think once is enough for me?! You think I’d let pain can stop me from having you?! I only have to look at you, at that gorgeous fucking bulge between your legs and I can’t hold myself back! Don’t you dare tell me what I can handle and what I can’t! I’ve got years and years of held-back lust and my goddamn juices on you, I think I’ve kept them to myself long enough, you beautiful brainless bastard! I don’t care how precious and breakable you think I am -  _you_ , Ronald Weasley, are going to fuck me hard, as hard as you can and I don’t care what it does to me! You promised to ride me, you giant fucking tease, do you really think I’d let you forget it?! I can’t fucking wait for it, I’m ready, so ready, Ron,  _please_...” 

His last words drowned in a loud moan and it was not his own. The redhead had clearly lost the last of his control and sunk down on him, looking every bit as desperate for release as Draco was moments ago. His mouth went back to feed on his pulse, his fingers rough, just as rough as he promised he was going to be and Draco found he couldn’t get enough of it. 

“You bastard... you gorgeous blond motherfucker, saying “ _please_ ” like that... you know I can’t resist you begging for it... I never could... I fantasised about this, you know, about fucking the pleas out of you... ever since I was a kid... I never told anybody.... but when you’d hurt me... and humiliate me... I’d go and toss off thinking of you, hurting you with my dick, making you beg... god, it’s gonna tear my balls open if I don’t have you right now, this is way overdue... overdue for ages... “

“Yes... Ron... please... I’ll say it... I’ll say it over and over again... as many times as it takes to have you in me, fill me up, take me apart... please, Ron,  _please_...” whispered Draco, voice desperate with tension – God, when did he get so hard again!? It had only been moments... but those moments were filled with Ron, tearing his own clothes off, the look in his eyes dark and menacing, looking every bit like a man gone off the cliff of sanity and Draco found the presence of danger incredibly arousing. Finally the skilled large hands moved in to open the tight trousers and Draco could no longer keep his fingers to himself. This… the wonderful hungry purple shaft, velvety soft to the touch but hard as rock, leaking pre-come and pulsating with life... was just too irresistible.

“Let me have it...” he asked, the pleading in his voice unmistakable. “Ron, please... let me have it...  _Now_... I need it now... inside me...  _fucking inside_... “

And Ron heard him. No doubt about that. His fingers slid between his arse-cheeks, rubbing against his cleft all too gently, and then the redhead closed his eyes and whispered a charm – and Draco suddenly found himself slick and ready to be entered. His eyes went wide with surprise at such an unexpected display of wandless magic, but Ron left him no time to wonder about what other skills he might be hiding. The redhead had no time to waste, he had no restraint left, he had no reason to hold back. Draco closed his eyes when he felt himself being invaded by a thick shaft, slowly, unrelentingly, and ground his teeth to ease the pain. The man was huge and it hurt… but then again, it always did. This time it was different. This pain was  _him_ , the mark of his presence and to Draco it was precious; just as precious as the pleasure he'd had him taste; precious and sweet from years of anticipation.

“I told you... “ he heard Ron whisper in a strained voice. “I told you I’d hurt you... but I can’t stop now... I can’t... _god_ , you feel amazing...” he moaned and that was all the aphrodisiac Draco needed. He felt himself getting filled up completely, he opened up to him, welcomed him and somehow the pain transformed into yearning for more, more of him, deeper, closer, more...

“Move,” he said in a hoarse voice he could hardly recognise as his own. “Move, goddamn you, Ron, move! Now! I fucking need it  _now_ , d’you hear me?! Now… god, yesss... just like that... oh, yeah... harder, harder, you bastard... oh, god you’re incredible… harder, faster, you teasing motherfucker... ohgodfuckingdamn you...yess... faster.... deeper.... yessss...  _there_ , right there, ohhhh, just like that... Ron!!!”

The wonderful cock had just brushed against that precious spot inside him that made him see stars and scream himself sore and now it was back… and back again; over and over again, until there was nothing left of him but a broken yelping man, desperately sinking deeper into his own ecstasy in the violent dance of invasion and surrender. Draco’s hands were clinging to the rail of the headboard with the force that was making his knuckles white; just to get some leverage, to have himself fucked as thoroughly as he was ever going to get fucked in his life. His legs were wrapped tightly around his redheaded god to bring him deeper; closer to this terrific devil’s creation that was driving him deep into the dark chasm of pleasure; coming to meet him in loud yelps of his name and pushing deeper and deeper until they were no longer two of them, but one creature, moving in perfect symphony of brutality and raw desire, moving towards the edge of savage completion. 

One large hand came to rest on the headboard, intertwining their fingers, while the long fingers of the other hand wrapped around his shaft, providing more impossible tension, pulling him closer to a mind-blowing climax. But even if they didn’t. His true poison was the beautiful face, merely inches from his own, and his eyes were glued on it in their reverence. Covered in a thin layer of sweat, with strands of fiery hair plastered against his incredible face, Ron’s skin was flushed with hot life, the blue eyes half closed, clearly in a world of their own, as if they couldn’t handle the reality out of his head, warm breath coming out of the soft mouth in short puffs, mingled with broken words.

“Fuck... fuck you, you crazy beautiful bitch... just like you asked... should’ve done this years ago... fuck you empty of your pride and insults… but I’ll give it to you now... I won’t stop until you break... you wanted to be mine, huh?... I’ll show you what it means... I’ll tear you apart... destroy you, just to get to you... to the real you... the beautiful... raw... screaming you... screaming my name... I’ll ruin you for everybody else... you’ll never fuck anyone else again... Draco...” 

His blue eyes opened and looked at him, dark with lust and held-back tension and he growled helplessly: 

“I’m close, Draco... so close... say it.. say those words again... I need it... need to come...”

“Ron... please, fuck me, Ron... please, give it to me, gorgeous... I can’t go without anymore... you, I want you, only you... oh, don’t stop... oh god, don’t you ever stop, love... now, Ron, now, love, please... Ron!!” 

And with the final thrust and a deafening “Draco!!” - Draco was no more. He felt his body break as if he was pushed out of it by this majestic man, invading him so forcefully; erupting inside him, flooding him full with his warmth and filling him up to the brim with impossible raw pleasure that made him shatter into the stars he was seeing, leaving no room for one Draco Malfoy to exist on his own. Whatever was left of him, was part of Ron now, this wonderful creature that was meant to be his, that took him apart with such ease; completed him so perfectly. His beautiful Ron, his man. 

His body was swimming somewhere in the Universe and he didn’t want to come back. Ever. This was his moment, what he was born for, his own private heaven. Pure ecstasy. Planet Love. A whole new domain. Eyes closed and chest heaving, the only thing on Draco’s mind was almost child-like wonder at the explosion of bliss he felt… this was not from this world, how could this even be… He thought he knew pleasure, he thought he knew what sex was, he thought he’d seen it all – and now he found out he knew none of the kind. He’s been through more beds than he could count, at one point in his life treating his obsession with the redhead by sleeping with anyone that spiked his interest – but now this man, who never had more than two lovers in his life, took him apart, wrapped himself around his very core and brought him to a whole different level… He showed him the difference between mindless sex and making one’s body follow love. And Draco never wanted to go back to not knowing that difference.

He finally managed to open his eyes; entirely boneless and unable to move, it was all he could do for the time being. He found his face buried in the crook of Ron’s neck, in the shelter of the flushed skin, feeling his pulse beating wildly, and decided it was his new favourite place on this planet. He was never leaving again. He would spell himself into the crook of Ron’s neck and just live off that wonderful scent he could no longer imagine his life without.

“ _God_...” moaned the redhead and tried to move, but even if Draco had let him, his muscles wouldn’t follow. “What  _the fuck_  was that just now...?! I thought the bloody Earth had moved... Fucking Merlin and his beard, I never had such an extra-terrestrial...  _thing_...  fuck, experience, call it whatever you like... in my life... did you put something in my food?” he finally looked at the Slytherin, peaking at him from under his ton of muscles like a mischievous kitten. And the blond couldn’t help but noticing how feigned was the look of suspicion and how brilliantly the blue eyes were sparkling with awe and held back joy - and then Draco’s mouth dissolved into a glowing smile before their owner could give his consent.

“We had no food, silly,” he mumbled. “You dragged me from the world’s most prestigious restaurant before I could taste that Muggle specialty you ordered. And you left me to starve!” he complained in a true Malfoyian fashion, eliciting a genuine blissful smile from the redhead that once again completely mesmerized him. 

“Draco Malfoy, minding the food... that’s a first! Too bad my mother doesn’t approve of my life-style, she’d fucking adopt you! She loves them skinny... you’d be her new project... who knows, maybe one day you will be...” Ron shrugged, unable to hold a single depressing thought in his present state of mind. He looked at Draco, flushed, sweaty, undone with a look of absolute happiness etched into his dream-like face and his face dissolved into another mischievous grin. 

“But now that you mentioned it... I do feel kind of starved, actually... Hmm, I wonder if there’s something a poor famished man could find to eat... Oh, look, there’s something... an absolutely delicious piece... right here... I could chew on that,” and Ron kissed him. Lovingly, sensually, sexy, like only he knew how and Draco closed his eyes and let himself float away. He could not keep a coherent mind under the onslaught of those soft caressing lips. They were his chosen poison of the day. Oh, just make that a life-time.

He felt Ron slip out and he winced involuntarily. God, this was going to be hell to pay, he could tell. Ron wasn’t far from the truth when he said he was going to break him. Draco wondered if he hadn't, accidentally. As if he could bring himself to care.

“Hurt much?” he heard his soft voice and opened his eyes to stare in the blue expanse that held his soul captive. 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he replied quietly, not willing to discuss anything that might ruin the moment. 

“You know… you’re lucky… I just happened to know this really good healer… maybe you’ve heard of him… he’s quite notorious… tall, blond and gorgeous... but an awfully haughty guy... though really good with his hands… and his mouth… he’s my boyfriend, want me to put in a good word for you?” 

It took Draco a second to realize he was talking about him and his heart stopped for a fraction – and then exploded in a million shreds of happiness. He was simply happy, the happiest man alive. They were an item now, Ron acknowledged it, there was no way back now. Fuck being married, fuck his father and his fortune, he’ll figure something out. With Ron by his side, how could he  _not_   win?

He looked into his smiling face again and hid inside a curtain of red hair, into his beloved crook of Ron’s neck. He couldn’t share with anyone how happy he was, not even he could understand. 

“Draco,” Ron called him gently, but the blond didn’t want to come out just yet. 

“Hm?” he replied instead, pushing his face deeper into the warm cave, the tiny universe he’d made for himself. 

“Don’t hurt me,” said Ron quietly and Draco dug his fingers in his back in a quiet acquiescence.  _Never_ , he promised himself with a lump in his throat, I’ll never hurt you again, Ron.

He fell asleep like that, covered in that wonderful body he could finally call his own, oblivious to the tempest that was cooking outside the door of their little shelter. 

They had pissed off many people that night. And one could hardly wish for a worse opponent than a furious Harry Potter.


	5. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned (story of domestic trials of a young hero)

Harry Potter was in hell. 

There was a herd of roaring rhinos locked inside his head and for the millionth fucking time he tried to calm Ginny down to stop the screaming that was making his head split in two. Why on God's bloody Earth did she have to screech so loud anyway?! There was nothing he did wrong in the end, was there!? It's not like he took up Ron on his offer as he should have, did he?! His heart squeezed in his chest every time he thought of that longing look in the crystal blue eyes, turning away from him with disappointment… only to look at another. To look at Malfoy of all people. The thought infuriated him so, that he almost welcomed his god-awful headache, because it was the only thing that prevented him from feeling how sore his heart was... 

He knew he'd made a wrong decision, he knew it the second Ron turned away from him – and yet he didn't know how to fix it anymore, with Ginny barking at his back and Ron, his Ron, the love of his life, gone with another man. He couldn't even begin to contemplate over it or he'd simply explode in frustration and impotent anger. He only knew he was sorry, as sorry as a man could be for having missed his chance and he knew what he did – or didn't do tonight – would come to haunt him. In fact, he was paying for it dearly right now, when his wife started another endless campaign of insults and complaints. 

"Can you please keep it down a little…" he tried tiredly, but Ginny was just too furious to give it a break. 

"I can’t believe you went and did that to me…" she started bitterly once again, for what felt like the millionth time that night. "To go and parade me in front of all these people, making me think it was all for me, making a bloody fool of myself, while all the time you were really there to spy on him, weren’t you?!  _Weren’t you_ , Harry Potter!? Merlin Almighty, when did you transform into such a bastard?!” she barked with pure acid in her voice and Harry was glad he’d left his wand on the kitchen counter, cause he was about 3 seconds away from hexing her back into her beloved Merlin’s coffin.

“What exactly are you accusing me of?” he tried, putting his best effort into sounding reasonable and calm, just to start a conversation, to tune her down if only for a moment and stop the terrible vibrations in his head. 

“Oh, please, Harry!  _Like.You.Don’t.Know!!!_  What kind of a fool do you take me for!? I might be naïve, but a blind man could see what you were up to, staring at him like that. You were practically drooling! Why the hell do you always have to look at him like you’re hungry or something?! And how come you never look at me like that?!” her screaming finally broke down into sobbing and she covered her face with her palms, crying hysterically. 

Well, fuck. Now what?! Harry was as lost as any man would be in the face of woman’s tears. And this…  _this_  was extra complicated. He _did_ feel genuinely sorry for her, having her evening end in such a disaster – he hadn’t really planned on that, not really. Hurting her wasn’t part of the plan; he was merely out there to protect Ron from himself, for god’s sake, from doing something stupid and irrevocable as only Ron could do! Everything was supposed to go down much more discreetly. He’d face Ron, his lover would repent and everyone would be happy for the evening. Except, possibly, Malfoy. He could go and rot in hell, as far as Harry cared.

But instead it had all somehow morphed into this giant mess where Ron threw a bloody fit -  and that really wouldn’t be something to write Molly home about, cause Ron was just being Ron, throwing fits all the time – but this time he’d done it in front of the whole world; he’d publicly done something to spite his best mate and worst of all: Harry could see he was genuinely hurt. And that’s what scared him the most. 

Ron, his Ron, the Ron he thought he knew, suddenly transformed into the terra incognita; unpredictable wild creature that always dwelled somewhere at the bottom of his insecurity and fiery temper. That was the Ron Harry didn’t get to see much since Hogwarts; Ron who was desperate to be special to someone, not realizing he was the most unique, wonderful creature Harry had ever met. Tonight Harry and the world met Ron who fiercely clung to his pride, just because he was always the last, always the poorest, always “the mediocre” guy. Which of course, he was not. 

To Harry, Ron was the most magical of all magical creatures he’d ever encountered. Make that all creatures he’d ever encountered. Everyone. Perhaps Ron’s magic wasn’t a force of nature, like Harry’s was, he was not brilliant in the sense of intellect, like Hermione – and yet he somehow managed to pull people to himself like a magnet, and he only ever needed to be himself to do it. And  _that_  was no ordinary magic. Even Malfoy came to “ _the Ron shrine_ ” in the end. The only one Ron was never good enough for was Ron. 

And  _that_  Ron came out to meet Harry tonight, asking him, for once, to put him first, to acknowledge the undeniable feelings between them, to take his hand and jump into the unknown, leaving it all behind, like he himself had done it so many times for Harry. And Harry didn’t do it. He had denied him, humiliated him, kicked him in the raw, open heart that was on display with all its wonders for him to have. He didn’t do it, he didn’t take his one chance at happiness in life.

But Malfoy did. And that was what was making Harry’s blood boil more than anything else. How eagerly had Malfoy jumped at his chance, with his typical arrogance and complete disregard for any consequences! But how, why!? In spite of the blond’s confession – every bit as arrogant as the Slytherin was, putting everything on the line for Ron and coming clean with no fear of repercussions - Harry still couldn’t help to question his motives. If it was really there, that overwhelming love the blond claimed to have had for his best mate – how come they had both missed it so spectacularly?! Was this all some curious plot? A plot against him, Harry, perhaps, to take away what he’d miss the most? 

But what if it was true? What if Malfoy was truly, genuinely in love with Ron – how long would it take before the undeniably attractive young man persuaded Ron that he was worth keeping? Honestly, with pedigree, money and proven over-protectiveness to the ones he cared about – how long? How long did Harry have to win Ron back, before he was lost to him for good?

He realized that the room had gone strangely quiet while he was lost in his thoughts and he looked at Ginny in her tear-streaked face, staring at him in what was dangerously close to hatred in her glassy eyes. And surely enough, she erupted again, though seething quietly for once:

“I hate you, Harry Potter! Why do you keep hurting me?! Why do you even go on keeping me around, when you and I both know who you’re really after? Why don’t you  _man up_  and for once, tell me how you  _really_  feel, so I can pick up what’s left of my pride and my life and just  _leave your lying arse behind_!!!”

He knew it was too good to be true – it had once again ended in crescendo. But between his pounding head, his sorrowed heart and the truth of her words in this hell of an evening, he had finally lost his composure. Something in him snapped and the room shook with the force of his magic on edge.  _Honesty_ , is that what she was asking for?! He’ll give her honesty; he’ll have her  _choke_  in it! This whole evening had shaken him to the core and the man that emerged through the cracks of his ordinary shell was bitter, livid and frighteningly brutal. He spoke quietly, but his voice held so much underlying danger, that the air trembled with it and there could be no doubt that this man, as powerful as they came, had been pushed across the invisible boundary at last: 

“What do you want from me, Ginny!? The truth?! Oh, I think you know the truth, I think you’ve always known it. I’m in love with Ron. There you go, just like your ladyship required.  _The truth_. I bet  _right_   _now_ you think it’s over-rated! But I can’t go on denying it anymore. I’m in love with your brother, always was. Gorgeous as you are, I’d never pay you another look if you weren’t his little sister, someone he cared about. Cause I can’t bring myself to care for anyone but him. I’ve tried. I’ve god-honest tried. I put all my effort in being a good husband, I’ve struggled to keep away from him, cause it would be the right thing to do, cause I love what we have right here, our little family. I thought it could be enough, this family, all I ever wanted, but it seems – not. _I.Can’t.Fucking.Stay.Away.From.Him!!_ I can’t. I’ve tried, I’ve torn myself between your wishes and my heart and I can’t do it, Ginny. 

All you ever saw was yourself and your misery, you never being shown enough love – but what about me, Gin?! The only love I ever had was completely out of my reach. Always was. First my parents, then him. The man’s married, for fuck’s sake! He’s  _a man_. Imagine how well would  _that_  go down in “Hogwarts: A History”! Even when I first climbed into his bed I knew we would always have to hide it. I’m Harry-fucking-Potter, the Boy-who-, the Saviour-of-, the man who’s been hopelessly in love with his best friend for his entire fucked-up life – of course I could never be myself! 

And along comes one Ginny Weasley and she thinks she can stand there, all long legs and fiery hair, looking like her brother, adoring me - and have me follow her on my knees. On account of what, exactly, Gin?! Can you honestly tell me you loved me for who I am and not for what I represent - honestly!? I was your hero from the start, I was  _everyone’s fucking hero_  before I could even think on my own, and no one bothered to see behind this. And I shot myself in the leg, time and time again, “ _saving_ ” the fucking world and adding up to the legend – and all this time there was one, perhaps two people on the entire planet who knew who Harry Potter, just Harry, was really like. I say two, because I think Hermione might know me better than I’m even aware of. Bloody brilliant, that one, always was. 

But if there’s one person that truly knows me, knows what I’m about, my darkest hours and my most glorious moments, it is Ron. He knows the worst and the best of me. He’s been by my side through the worst of times, my nightmares, my teenage depression, my fucking hero complex dragging us all around at Voldemort’s mercy. He’s been through hunger and deprivation and through his own lack of self-esteem for me.  _He knows me._  All of me. And he still loves me. Not the illusion of me, but me, the real me. That’s why he didn’t turn away when I came looking for comfort that one time, after a particularly nasty nightmare. He let me stay, he comforted me and, in the end, he made love to me. Cause that’s what I needed. That’s right, we’ve been lovers since we were in our sixth year at Hogwarts, I bet you didn’t know that! Want the date as well? I didn’t think so. Never mind. I’ll never forget.  _One of the happiest nights of my miserable life_. 

And then you thought you could turn it all around with your little stunt of coming onto me in front of everyone?! You threw yourself at me and  _I looked at him_ , for god’s sake! If he hadn't given his silent consent, as hard as it was on him, we would never have become a couple, Gin! And that’s God’s honest truth. You owe your brother far more than you imagine. He knew how much you wanted this, us, to happen and he gave his consent just to give his little sister the best thing he thought he ever had. Oh, don’t you give me that look as if you’re only hearing my ego talk – not even I’m so self-conceited to call myself “the best thing” Ron’s ever had! – I simply do, because that’s what he told me. 

He came to me that night, the night after you and I started dating; he came to me, like he always did when I needed him - except for this time he needed me. It still haunts me how ghastly pale he was in the moonlight, how wild and desperate his eyes shone. I’ll never forget his words either, how small and bitter they sounded: “Can I still call you mine, Harry?” he asked me. “Even after tonight? God, why do I find it so hard to let you go? How do you give up the best thing you’ve ever had?” 

He said those words, Gin, once again pushed behind someone else, this time just because he was a man and just because I wasn’t, not a man enough to give him what was his to have already: my heart. How could I have acknowledged what we had in a broad daylight? I was willing to face Voldemort in a heartbeat, but I didn’t have the courage to do that. The Boy who lived to be a coward, that’s what I really am,” Harry said bitterly, lost in memories of all the wrong choices and lost chances.

“But under the veil of the night,  _that_  night, I couldn’t fucking wait to prove it to him that he didn’t need to let me go, Gin.  _I couldn’t’ fucking wait_. That man, your brother… he’s all I ever wanted, he really does me in. He knows how to touch me where I’m the most vulnerable and  _Christ_ , the way he makes me come…” He ran his fingers through his dishevelled hair at this point, his eyes electric and wild, as if a part of him knew that this was just plain hurting her on purpose and wanted to stop – but he was too hurt, too frustrated and too far gone to care, so he proceeded with unwavering determination: 

“It takes one look from him to have my heart melting and my dick hard, that’s all I’m going to say. And also - you can’t compete, you can’t. No one can. No one even comes close.”

A moment of silence ensued as he was trying to collect what was left of his mind to pour into words and Ginny – Ginny was just too mortified for words. She would never have believed him capable of such… cruelty, such dark, purposefully cutting honesty… She requested it, she could hardly blame him for it, but this man in front of her… where did her husband go and who was he?! How much of him did she even know? Couldn’t have been that much, she was well aware of it now.

And yet, there was something about him at this moment that made her breath hitch and her heart almost jump out of its cavity. He was just… magnetic in his power, almost electrifying with his unbound magic cracking in the air around him and in spite of all the hurtful things he had said, she found she couldn’t take her eyes of him.  _This_ … was Harry Potter, in his purest undiluted form, the man who went out there to meet the meanest most powerful wizard of his time with no consideration to his own life, with no safety net. And Ginny was willing to bet everything she owned that in the last moments when Lord Voldemort stared into these bottomless green eyes, he must have been afraid. He must have realized he could never win. He never even stood a chance against the unbound determination of this overwhelming man, her husband.

She was startled when Harry spoke again, a new note in his voice, one of sorrow and regret joining the brittle anger from before: 

“And you know, Gin, what’s the saddest, the most ridiculous part about this whole fucking mess? That I never got to tell Ron how much he means to me, that I never got to say the words… I should’ve let him know… I should not have assumed he knew, I should not have taken his feelings for granted. Look where it brought me in the end; look where it brought all of us! Perhaps if I said it, if I had heard myself say it, maybe it would have dawned on me sooner, how foolish it was of me to try and have it all: the unblemished fame, the father of the year reputation, the most desirable husband title and him on the side. When he should have  _never_  been on the side in the first place! He’s the fucking heart of my life, he is! How could I have gone so wrong to have him land in Malfoy’s arms!? 

And there you stand, probably wondering, how could I have mislead you for years and years, while all this time you could have had a husband who would truly love you with all his heart? I’m not completely heartless and without consciousness, Ginny, I do realize that you deserve better, much better that I can give you. You’re bloody gorgeous, prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, Fleur with all her Veela heritage’s got nothing on you as far as I’m concerned! And you’re generous and passionate, brave and strong – and an excellent mom as I always knew you were going to be. I know you deserve someone to be the one and only for, everyone does – I just can’t be the one to give it to you. I think it was too late for us the first time I laid my eyes on Ron and felt the rush of warmth flood through me. He was the first person I clearly remember of ever welcoming me in my life. You can’t beat that, Ginny, you can’t beat who I was moulded to be by my less than glittering past. And now I’ve lost him and I pushed you away as well. Perhaps I was meant to be left with nothing after all.

My marriage was a lie, I put my love for Ron on a lie… sometimes the only thing that feels real in my life, are our children. They can’t be blamed for their father being a stupid heartless bastard, they’re so innocent and sweet and fragile and… I love them fiercely. I’d go down on my knees and beg you not to take them away from me, if I thought it would help. Though I doubt that much after this conversation,” he ground his teeth together bitterly, still uncommonly angry, but somehow strangely relieved of his burden. Coming clean felt good, it felt right, even though he knew there will be hell to pay in the days to come. Right now he needed his soul empty and his heart clean to be able to save what was left of his life and his love.

He looked at Ginny defiantly, fully expecting to see her stare back at him in hatred – but there was none of it in her soft brown eyes. There was pity, though, plenty of it and a strange look of recognition and resolve, as if someone has finally pulled the blinds up and her life was flooded with light, sharp and painful to the eyes, but making her see things clearly. Her life at the moment was an unflattering sight. Yet – for the first time in years, it had felt real. Not like an illusion of happiness she hopelessly tried to pursue, always eluding her by the skin of her teeth, but real in the way someone else, who was not so dead-set on self-delusion, could have seen it years ago. And it had somehow felt right. Not good. But right. She could go on now, where she knew where they stood.

Her husband was in love with another. With her own brother, of all people. With Ron, who was apparently ready to give Harry up for her to have, but couldn’t really do it, because Harry would never let him. She was the one that came to stand between them and not the other way around. It was not Ron who was always ruining everything. It was her own obsession with Harry that took things in a different direction and landed them all here, where no one wanted to be. Except, perhaps, Ron. He looked pretty damn happy with Malfoy hanging around his neck, didn’t he? How did that bastard of her brother always come out on top?! But she couldn’t say that to Harry, she couldn’t rub it in that “the love of his life” looked pretty comfortable with someone else. Not tonight, anyway. She’d never seen her husband so destroyed. 

The man that emerged from the ruins of his own image was almost a stranger to her, but somehow she felt  _this_ was Harry she fell in love with in the first place. Not the polite gentle man that always went out of his way to give her what she asked of him - but this guy, this rough dangerous creature who was not afraid to speak the truth, who was bold enough to take the consequences. Somehow she loved him more in this moment that she did in all the sugar-coated years of their marriage. And she pitied him. 

How could he have ever attempted something so stupid as to give true love up and then try to fake something that wasn’t really there? Didn’t he think she could tell the difference, for Merlin’s sake?! She grew up with love, her parents were head over heels into each other, she was cherished and spoilt by all her family members – but she realized that the only way this could have worked so far was because he had her full cooperation in hiding what he really felt. He was hopelessly trying to create a perfect illusion for all of them and she was willing to delude herself that their marriage was the ultimate expression of his feelings. 

But deep down inside she had always felt that this shell of a perfect life was empty on the inside. That’s why she kept on asking for proof after proof of his affection, that’s why she gladly went along with him when he pushed to have kids as soon as possible. She had hoped having children would finally cement their marriage and add the solid weight of true love to their relationship, something she, in truth, never felt was there. She always told herself Harry loved her, but she knew she had to tell herself that in the first place because she never really felt it. And she always felt danger to her marriage radiating from Ron. Try as she might, she couldn’t forgive him; she couldn’t forget that he beat her to Harry’s heart, though inadvertently. She felt resentment and anger and a desperate urge to hurt her dashing brother. She would have to deal with him later. First Harry.

He did not love her, he said so himself. He loved their children, one’d have to be blind and stupid not to see that - but not her. Now this was her cue to leave the game. Kick him in the teeth, take the children and make him regret _ever_  abusing her trust the way he did.  _Easier said than done_ , though… In spite of what Harry thought of her, she truly did love him. To hell with it, she adored him, she fucking  _worshiped_  the floor he stood on!  _Since forever_. She didn’t know if she could ever exist without that obsessive love, it had been part of her for so long she didn’t know who Ginny Weasley Potter was without it. Could she really go back to just being Ginny Weasley? An ex-wife to a wizarding legend. Reduced to reading about the man she was desperate to have in the newspapers, about the life he would make without her, about where he’d take his heart… 

She didn’t think so. She didn’t think she could do it. She’d rather be his wife, the discretely unloved spouse to the one and only of her world than an adored better-half to a lesser man. She knew she could not love anyone else but Harry. There was no other like him out there. Everyone else faded in comparison. And there would always be comparison. She knew she would always measure any other man against the shadow Harry cast. 

But was it really all lost? Did it need to be? Could she continue to exist on what little he’d left her with? Was there still enough between them to be worth the effort? She found out she wanted it desperately. Perhaps he didn’t love her, but he had shared his bed and some of his most private dreams with her. He had cherished her enough to start a family with her, to bestow the care of his children onto her, his most prized treasure, and in the end he had trusted her enough to pour out his soul to her.   
And he had called her gorgeous and generous – what better time to prove him right? Through thick and thin, or - for better and for worse, that’s what her marriage vows said. Love came later in the text. And she found out she was not willing to go back on herself on the small matter of her husband not loving her the way another man could. No one else was fit to clean Harry’s boots as far as she was concerned anyway and if she could live in a loveless relationship for so long and ignore it – perhaps she was strong enough to continue to live in it fully aware of what she could have and could not have. He had called her strong – he had no idea… The lengths Ginny Weasley Potter was willing to go, just to remain Ginny Weasley  _Potter_   surprised even her; now it was time to see if he was willing to hold on to what was left of their relationship.

She had looked him straight in the eyes and found out she needed all her courage to do so, for her look almost quivered at the darkness staring at her from those astonishing green eyes. 

“I forgive you,” she said quietly. 

It was clearly not something he expected to hear from her mouth. She saw him mouth a distressed  _“What…?”_ , but she didn’t want to give him too much time to ponder over it. 

“I forgive you,” she continued, looking him straight in the eyes, as scary as it was, so that there could be no doubt about her intentions. “I forgive you, Harry Potter, for lying to me, for leading me on all those years, for staying with me only for the sake of our children. Though it hurts like hell right now, I forgive you for loving my brother instead, because there’s really nothing you can do about it and it is not something you willingly chose. Love chooses us and not the other way around. We are so often defenceless that it makes me cry, just look at me! – there  _couldn’t be_  another man on the planet I would be having this conversation with, but when it comes to you, I’m just a darned fool! I am and always was completely helpless when my feelings for you come into question. So I forgive you,” she said sternly and saw with relief that his face softened a little and it gave her the courage to continue with more heated determination:

“But I won’t be able to forgive you if you leave me behind after all you’ve put me through. I don’t want any more lies, it is what it is, and we both know I’m not the one you’d be with if you could choose. But I can’t bring myself to let you go, not yet. The children would eat me alive anyway,” she made a small smile and like every word, it was deliberate. It couldn’t harm her case to remind him what he stood to lose. 

“I don’t want you to make me another promise you wouldn’t be able to keep, so I won’t make you promise anything. Just think this over: Are you really the only one who can make  _him_  happy? Cause that’s what you want, isn’t it, Harry? You want Ron happy and that’s why you want to be with him, cause you’re “the best thing” he ever had. A 16-year-old boy said those words to you, Harry. A boy, who felt he had no one to appreciate him, had no wife and children, never kissed another person in his life; a boy who was desperately clinging to this one thing, one person in his life that was making him feel as if he mattered.   
Ron is not that person anymore, Harry. I found out the hard way, we all did, when we tried to make him bend his head to save his marriage and his reputation. He flat out refused. Why? Because somewhere down the road this boy has grown up and turned into one of the most self-assured people I’ve ever come to know. Who could stand up to his entire circle of family and friends for something only he believed in, if not the man who’s dead certain of himself? Even when I twisted your arm into compliance – and, doubt not, I know now that it was wrong of me to have done so – he still wouldn’t repent and I almost had to admire his stubbornness, though I hated him for it and – I won’t lie – I still do.

I don’t know what happened on that blasted search for Horcruxes you embarked on, but the Ron who returned was not the same insecure boy that left with you. He must have faced something… I’d be willing to bet it was pretty close to the worst of his demons - and he came out on the other end as hard and sharp as obsidian. That man needs no one to be happy. I know my brother, it must have devastated him that you left him hanging there all alone – but he recovered pretty quickly, don’t you think? Are you absolutely, positively certain, you’re the only one that can make him happy, Harry?”

“Yes!! No… I don’t know…” Harry admitted quietly, an image of Malfoy’s thin fingers wrapped in Ron’s fiery hair still burnt onto his brain. “I just know I can’t let Malfoy have him!” he erupted passionately, a wild look in his feverish eyes. “I can’t… He’s all wrong for him, he’s all wrong, period. He’ll hurt him, I know he will, and I don’t want to wait long enough to have to pick up the pieces of a broken man. This must be stopped!” he added adamantly and when she smiled at him sweetly, he knew he had found an unexpected ally.

“Do what you have to do, Harry,” she said quietly. “I find the thought of my brother and Malfoy just as repulsive as you do. I will not try to stop you from trying to break them apart; Merlin knows I’ll have to soap my brain clean from what I saw tonight!” she shuddered, the shock and the humiliation of the entire jet-set gaping at Ron sucking Malfoy’s face off still very much alive in her consciousness. 

“But do keep in mind that I’ll be here, waiting for you, whatever you decide. You may not love me, but you said yourself: you love what we have here, our little family, and I hope you can find it in your heart to preserve it, not to risk it all for the sake of one man who might have already moved on. Just… go and see and come back to me, when you have the answer.”

Harry looked at her, a mixture of gratitude and unspoken apology in his eyes, and without warning, hugged her fiercely.

“You are a much better wife than a twat like me could ever hope for,” he said quietly. “And for what it’s worth – if I met you first, perhaps I could have given you that love that should be yours, because you’re simply the most amazing and wonderful woman I’ve ever met. I might not love you the way you deserve to be loved, but I admire and respect you like no other. You, Ginny, and your love, make me feel small and selfish, just as I ought to feel. No matter how things turn out between us – there will never be another woman more deserving of my love than you are, darling.”

“Shush, go away, you terrible sap,” she waved him away, before she would find it too hard to let him go. God, how she needed his strong arms around her tonight – and yet she knew that for once she had to let him go if she was to maintain any hope of winning him back. She was surprised to find out that tears were running down her face – damn Harry Potter and his ability to turn her into a sentimental tear-soaked sponge on a whim! She couldn’t watch him go, sorely aware she might be looking at him as her husband for the last time, if things don’t turn in her favour, so she headed for a bathroom to clean her tear-streaked face. The soft sound of the front door closing surprised her – for once Harry decided not to disapparate, but to walk away from what they’d built together and she felt her heart squeeze in her chest. She knew her husband well – some serious thinking was ahead and if she was in Malfoy’s shoes she wouldn’t be sleeping quietly tonight.

~

Rita Skeeter was in hell. 

How on Merlin’s bloody earth could she have missed an opportunity like that!? To hell with her stingy boss that wouldn’t cover the cost of the table in the restaurant, making her stand outside like some third-grade scribbler, collecting scraps of information from the broken bits of conversation, when scandal after scandal apparently hit inside the prestigious place! Ron Weasley was reportedly having a heated – though too damn quiet! – argument with Harry bloody Potter – the Golden Trio might have come to an end and  _she was not there to see it_  because “it was beyond their budget” according to that  _troll_  that called himself her boss! Uhhhhh, she could so  _murder_ someone right now! 

And that was not even the most shocking event that took place: following the argument between the Saviour and his best mate, Draco His Highness Malfoy stepped in, launched himself at the redheaded war hero and proceeded to kiss his face off! What a scandal!  _What a story_! And she didn’t have a photo of it, so the story was practically worthless!! What was she supposed to do with the photo of an innocent looking pat on the back, which was clearly taken  _outside_  of the prestigious place!? All of it because of that…  _grrrrr_! She’ll have to think of something to get back to that pompous fart! A nicely made up story, entirely fake, of course, that would get him in trouble when printed…yes, that could do… and she would of course claim the sudden and mysterious death of her sources… 

But what a story, what a night! There were a million angles to work that story from! Was the Malfoy heir drunk? Drugged? Or even – hexed?! Because no Malfoy in a right mind would ever be seen kissing a Weasley, let alone a  _male_  Weasley, the one he was in a life-long quarrel with! So who had hexed him? Perhaps Potter – the eye-witness reports said he had been present and looking livid! But why? And why use his best mate to get back to Malfoy? It somehow didn’t fit. 

Was it someone else then? An old grudge perhaps? Which one of the many enemies that the Malfoys had made in the past reared up their ugly head and came up with such an ingenious plot to humiliate and destroy the reputation of the proverbially promiscuous but very careful young man? Never before had Draco Malfoy given the public  _anything_  beyond the rumours that he wasn’t too particular on whom he bestowed his affection – and those were sadly very unprintable, given the long arm of his family’s influence. And yet  _everybody_  knew that the very much married young man shagged anything with a pulse – oh, how for once she  _yearned_  she’d be able to write that and they would have to print it! – so, perhaps it was one of the many enraged ex-es that had executed such a wonderful revenge? Or perhaps a neglected wife?! Oh, what a story would  _that_  make for!

Oh, how she wished she had seen it with her own eyes! Witness accounts simply weren’t  _it_ ; the stupid people had claimed, one after another, that there were no hexes flying and that the gorgeous redhead – oh, he was gorgeous, wasn’t he, gorgeous and possibly corrupt to have found himself in the middle of such a scandal! -  simply dragged both sworn enemies from the private lounge like children, holding their wrists of all things, then spoke to his best mate quietly, clearly trying to get him to agree to something, then abandoned him and turned to Malfoy, who proceeded to snog him stupid, no shame, no reservations. It was really hard to work the hexes into this story, silly blind unobservant people, surely there was something else going on! 

This can’t have been it! Malfoy would never… he would never…  _or would he_? Was there something she had missed going on all these years? It was just  _a little_  scandalous how he just got himself a job, wasn’t it? Malfoys didn’t do jobs, not in centuries, everybody knew that! And yet – he had gotten one and the one time she had overheard him comment on it, he’d mentioned he was bored. More money than  _God_  and bored?! Yeah, right…

What if – and she knew this was a very slim possibility, but still – what if the young Malfoy simply followed Weasley in his footsteps and that’s what landed him a job? But why chose Weasley? Potter was a much more obvious choice if he decided to… test the water with the other side, to put it politely… Either way -with Potter around who’d be short-sighted enough to choose Weasley, who was average at best?! 

Well, besides the fact that he was bloody gorgeous, of course. 

And that he had somehow managed to catch the attention of the smartest witch in England and persuade her to marry him. 

And that he made the legendary Harry Potter his best friend in the course of a single train-ride. 

 _Wait a minute_ , how could she have missed out on all that for so long!? 

Once you put it all together – Weasley was in the bloody centre of it, wasn’t he?! 

Was it really so hard to believe that Draco Malfoy, who was always a little bit radical and not quite up there with his father’s impeccable taste – fell for the poor boy? This was better than one of the Tales of Beedle the Bard and undoubtedly more scandalous and, oh, so  _juicy_! What a love story! It was all there – the unrequited love, the influential spouses, powerful adversaries on all sides – she could write this as a seasonal series and still she’d have something to go on! But could it be? It seemed impossible…

Oh, she was getting herself all tangled and confused in her own theories! What she desperately needed was photographs, first impressions, statements… she needed statements!! But where to get them  _in the middle of the bloody night_  with a paper ready to be printed in the wee hours of the morning!? It’s not like she could go and ring on the doorbell of His royal Majesty, Lucius Malfoy in the middle of the night and ask his opinion on his son exchanging saliva with a Weasley, could she now?!

Looking frantically left and right around the long abandoned park in the prestigious neighbourhood as if trying to find forgotten and useful clues that would save her career her eyes spotted a lone figure appearing from between the trees on the far side of the park and her pulse hitched into the sky. She would know  _that_  figure anywhere. She had done her stalking, years and years of it, sometimes for a single picture of the elusive man and even in the faint light of the street lamps, Harry Potter was as obvious to her as if he'd come straight to her in broad daylight and shook her hand. Not that  _that_  had ever happened, for all the good propaganda she gave that boy! 

Harry Potter, of all people, in the middle of the night – and what a night it was! – walking in the park all by himself –  _that alone_ was worth a story! Perhaps all was not lost after all, perhaps there was still a chance – as small as it was, given this man’s arrogance and the disdain he always held for her exemplary work! – a small chance, then, to get her statement, to have a story. She needed to tread carefully, though; Potter would be none too pleased to see her after a night like this and given their history, he might not be too inclined to trust her. 

“Easy, Rita, easy…” she told herself as she approached as stealthily as she could and hoped that he wouldn’t disapparate on her before she managed to ambush him with the first question. But stealthy or not – she could not escape the trained senses of Head Auror. 

“What do you want, Skeeter?” he all but growled at her, startling her almost out of her high-heel shoes. 

“Well, good evening to you, too, Mr. Potter!” She tried to gain back some of her composure and his good grace by willingly ignoring his rudeness and going for corny. “Who’d say! The Saviour of the wizarding world found wandering all alone in the middle of the night in the wilderness of London! Looking out for us, Mr. Potter, hm? Evil never sleeps and all that rot? Or was the night perhaps a bit – too eventful for your liking?!” she asked pryingly, no longer able to contain her predatory curiosity.

Despising and something alike repulsion was clearly etched into the young man’s face, when he looked at her and he opened his mouth to give her a reply he thought she deserved, when suddenly he seemed to have changed his mind, closed his mouth and looked at her intently, as if he suddenly saw her in a new light. Never before was Rita Skeeter submitted to the full perusal of those legendary green eyes and suddenly she became full aware of the chilly night when Head Auror Potter bored at her with his focused stare and gave her a full once-over. 

“You could say that,” he finally said, his voice void of all emotion. And Rita Skeeter found herself gawping with her mouth open at the most powerful wizard in England who returned her stare without averting his eyes. He had  _never_  willingly given her anything – and now this! Gods were clearly on her side tonight, she can’t screw this up, she  _can’t_!!

“C-can I p-print this conversation?!” she gasped, praying to whatever force from heaven or hell looked over her to have her wish granted. “Can I quote you? You must have  _something_  to say on your arch enemy snogging your best mate!” she blabbed hastily, but her breath slowly froze in her throat when he fixed her with his stern stare once again. Suddenly she became chilly to the bone and an unwelcome realization crawled up her bones that he could put her out of job and the newspaper out of print by the morning if he chose to do so. That’s just how influential he was. 

“But of course… I don’t want any trouble…” she squeaked quietly and tried to assess the damage she had done with her careless tongue.

“You don’t have anything, do you?” he suddenly smirked at her and the glee in his voice was unmistakable. “You weren’t in there…. So no photos, no statements, no first-hand impressions… my, my, Skeeter, you must simply be  _dying for information_  by now…” 

She felt anger rise inside her like someone poured a bucket of hot coals down her throat – she would not have this insolent young man mock her, Saviour or no Saviour, she knew her weight in the eyes of the public, she could do some serious damage!

“Listen to me,  _Potter_ …” she spat, but it was all she was to say at this moment, because he stopped her breath dead with what came out of his mouth next:

“I’m willing to… be helpful… for once…” he offered matter-of-factly as if he had finally reached a decision, as if he didn’t realize that he almost cut the floor from under her feet with those simple words. He did not just say that, did he?! Talk about luck! She needed to think, think, think, recover her wits about as fast as possible and write down every word, every impression he was willing to share! She found herself nodding enthusiastically, still hardly able to believe her luck, her trained fingers looking for her quill and her infamous notebook almost on their own accord with a speed of a desperate woman.

“Of course… there will be some…  _conditions_ , which I need you to agree to, before we could continue this conversation, yes?” he added sternly and she deflated a bit.  _Oh_ … she should have known…, but then again – what did she have to lose?

She  _was_  desperate, she had nothing, and anything Harry bloody Potter could provide would equal solid gold in her books right about now! So she found herself nodding yet again, though less eagerly and he took that as a mark of her consent and continued in a steady voice: 

“First of all, I was never here. We never met, you never spoke to Harry Potter in reference to this story. I’m your “reliable source”, that’s all – you should be used to that by now,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice and this time she could not contain her disappointment.

“But then this is worthless!” she screeched, desperate to make him see how impossible this was without stating her first-class source!

“Shut up, Skeeter!” he said roughly, not bothering with politeness, the darkness in his voice so unmistakeable that this alone was enough to put a dam on a stream of her frustrated screams. “I will tell you more than enough… Remember, without me, you’ve got nothing. I alone can give you something to print, so don’t even  _try_  to push me.  _I_ was there – and  _you_  were not, it’s as simple as that. You will need some background and an eye-witness account. I can give you both, but you will under no circumstances mention my name in any relation whatsoever to this affair. Are we clear on that?” he looked at her piercingly and when she refused to nod directly, still livid at his audacity, he snapped at her in a cold irritated voice: 

“Are we clear on that, Skeeter?! I need your answer now – or no story. See how McLaggen likes that. He’s still your boss, isn’t he? Never mind, him or another… anyone would have you fired if you show up empty handed after a night like this. Oh, and I will need you to keep your word once it’s given - or is there a need for an Unbreakable Vow?” he added sarcastically. 

He had her cornered and they both knew it. She might as well give in. There would be plenty of opportunities to get back at him in the future, she would make sure of that! So with anger gripping at her throat she forced herself to nod and her somewhat resigned voice spoke of her surrender:

“No need for vows, Potter, I will keep my word. You and I never met tonight, so no names, at least not yours… Though I might  _have_   _to_  mention you bringing your wife to dinner somewhere in the news!” she added quickly, knowing full-well that the chief-editor would skin her alive if she didn’t write about  _that_. 

Harry merely waved his hand dismissively at this piece of information, the “who-was-wearing-what” pages being the last thing on his mind, as he was now fully focused on telling an entirely different story. He knew he needed to tread carefully when the sharp quill of Rita Skeeter was involved. This was crisis management at its finest and Head Auror Potter needed to step up to the challenge if he was to keep any control whatsoever over his life… and to win his Ron back. This was the whole purpose of this travesty of an interview. Shaping the story to fit his desired perspective was the least of his crimes this evening. 

Still – just speaking the words and painting the unwelcome picture for her caused a shadow of his anger to return and he found he could not speak as void of emotions as he hoped he would be able to.

“Now, let’s see if I can recap for you, what happened. To put it simply: Draco Malfoy kissed my – he kissed Ron. Full-on - not just a peck on the cheek, I assure you – but the whole fu-  _assault_  with the entire  _world_  watching and he wouldn’t let go. I – my wife –  _we_  were all very shocked by the unexpected action and Ron must have been, too, because he let himself be side-disapparated and is currently at an unknown location. Whether Malfoy is with him or not, is unbeknownst to me. That’s all I can tell you about what happened tonight. You put it in your own words and decorate it with your filth and see if I care. But if a splash of your dirt ends up on Ron, I will have your head, Skeeter - literally!” he looked at her with undisguised threat in his eyes and left the loathed reporter scribbling frantically with no doubt who should carry the full load of blame for this scandalous affair. 

This information alone was worth standing shivering in the middle of the bloody night for. No hexes then; Draco Malfoy kissed Ronald Weasley out of his own will. So it was a love story after all! Now, wasn’t that sweet… surely a heart-melting real-life fairy-tale that a certain proud silver-haired wizard and his haughty wife would love to read at their morning coffee… NOT! She couldn’t help a gleeful smile spreading over her face as she watched her Quick-Quotes Quill slide speedily across the smooth surface of a parchment and she missed the raven-haired youth looking at her in disgust. He hastily picked up his words as if he was eager to have this conversation over with.

“Now – so far, this is nothing you didn’t already know, I assume. I’m sure you must have found a handful of eager witnesses to give you their own account of what happened tonight… Some might have mentioned Ron and I had been… having a slightly heated discussion before things… escalated in an unexpected direction,” he looked at her probingly and she smiled with a hungry smile of a vulture, rather relieved that she didn’t even have to pose the undoubtedly awkward question to the ill disposed young man.

“Well, I assure you, it was nothing!” he continued firmly, disappointing her immensely. “Ron and I – we’re very close, as close as we always were, and this will never change. It can’t,” he said, assuring himself as much as her. “It was just a small disagreement due to our different views regarding our re- our family matters and his recent career choice.” 

Fully aware how badly he nearly blundered, he trod on full force, more determined than ever to give her the point of view the public should assume along with her article.

“You see, Ron had recently decided to transfer to the active on-the-field duty due to… well, personal reasons, family obligations, nothing worth mentioning, really. And bloody Malfoy just followed him there. He set Ron up, claiming that he had been assigned as his partner, though it was later revealed  that the so called re-assignment was nothing more than a work of bribery on the part of that skinny wanker to come as close to my – to Ron as possible. Malfoy kept on stalking him and  – Merlin knows how, because Ron hates his fucking guts! – somehow managed to lure him to a so-called business dinner. And there he shamelessly proceeded to force himself upon Ron in more ways than one and when nothing else worked the bastard went on and kissed him, just like that, in front of the whole fucking world!” 

He shut up abruptly at this point, as if aware that the anger in his voice became unmistakable and the crackling of his magic in the air was a clear sign that Harry Potter was quite beside himself. And that really spiked her interest. For such a reserved young man Potter was uncommonly livid tonight. Obviously the Saviour of the wizarding world could hardly approve of his best mate having  _anything_  to do with the alleged Death Eater but there was a definite undertone of a much more powerful emotion in his voice. It was hatred, she decided. She only had to look at him and it was all over his face. 

Harry Potter  _hated_  having to witness this particular kiss. Now wasn’t that interesting… Was Potter – so careful to always be seen standing up for every poor creature’s rights, however undeserving - nothing but a bigot? Or was it because his best mate was involved? Perhaps he only hated the redhead kissing  _this particular_  man? Unable to embrace the brave new world and still holding on to the old grudges then? Not that wasn’t it… The years of prying on people had her well equipped for recognising human emotion and under all that clearly painted anger on Potter’s face there was something else… something that was suspiciously like… jealousy? Was Potter  _jealous_?! Of what?! Of whom?! She desperately needed to find out more! 

“So what did you think of it?!” she asked almost breathless. “How did you feel having seen your best mate and your – well, everybody knows you hate him – worst enemy kiss right under your nose? How…”

“Oh, but I  _didn’t think anything_ , Skeeter! We never met, remember?” he cut her off dryly, but unable to disguise how he ground his teeth in cold anger. Definitely jealous. She stared at him sharply, trying to discern his face better in the weak light of the street lamps. How deeply did it go, this poorly concealed jealousy? And  _who_  was he jealous of, exactly?! She saw him bite his lower lip and look away from her to gain his composure. Oh.My.God. What did she stumble across here?!

Harry knew he was losing it. Just running the events of the night in his mind, then having to repeat them out loud was making his blood boil. He knew he desperately needed to keep control. At this point, letting the world aware of his feelings wasn’t going to bring Ron back. But he still needed to get his message across, he couldn’t walk away now or Skeeter would wreak havoc with her bloody evil quill! Harry Potter might not have officially said it, but he needed it to be heard that there would be trouble for that blond back-stabbing rat that stole his man! And people needed to be told his version of events. People who mattered. Hermione, among the first. Molly and Arthur – they would be heart-broken if they thought Ron was the one who instigated Malfoy’s display of affection. Which he didn’t of course. Not on purpose. Well… he’d only done it to spite Harry. That’s what all this was about.

But he was suddenly distracted by a low calculated voice laced with incredulity that took him by surprise: “Are you in love with him?”

His head snapped in her direction, unable to mask a sudden flood of emotion and he heard her gasp: “Oh, sweet Merlin, you’re in love with Draco Malfoy, aren’t you!? All that hatred, all that tension… just a disguise for your obsession with your life-long adversary… you sure had us all fooled, Potter!” 

He heard an undertone of vicious laughter in her voice and suddenly he couldn’t stand it. He pounced at her before she could move a muscle and he stared down her round frightened eyes, magnified by her glasses, with unabashed hatred and disdain:

“For once, I offer my cooperation,” he seethed through gritted teeth. “And  _this_  is what you go and bloody well do!! I just saved your pitiful misery of a career and still it is not enough for you! Oh, no, you have to dig deeper, discover more dirt, hurt more people in the process! Well, guess what, you blind old bat?! You wouldn’t be able to recognise the truth if it came and bit you in your skinny ugly behind! Once again, you got it all wrong, you brainless daft bitch!  I’m not in love with Draco bloody Malfoy, how could you – who would even think of something as despicable as that?! I’m in love with Ron,  _my_  Ron, my life-long soul-mate, the one that’s been stolen from me by that greedy spoilt bastard! How’s that for a scandal, you dirty-minded queen of rats!?” With no small satisfaction he saw her open and close her mouth empty, for once unable to come up with a witty comment and he almost regretted what he had to do next. 

“Of course, I can’t let you print that… though I’m dying to, trust me. But I just thought you might want to know anyway…” he said softly and before she could react, his wand was pointed at her temple and he adamantly said the word: “ _Obliviate_!”

Her tense features relaxed into a blank expression and Harry closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his dishevelled hair to collect what was left of his scattered brain tonight. This… was a disaster. He knew he was agitated and vulnerable tonight, he should have known better to try and speak to that sharp bitch! But he was desperate to get his message across and she was there and he thought he could pull this off… which, he clearly couldn’t, not tonight. And now he had to try and save what little he could and take it as a lesson not to blunder with the rest of his feeble plan.

He took a moment longer for his thoughts to clear, then took a deep breath and spoke firmly:

“You will forget everything about Ron Weasley and Harry Potter being more than just friends. The idea is ridiculous. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are best mates, that’s all there is, and you won’t let anyone persuade you different. And Draco Malfoy is a worthless piece of shit just looking for attention. You need to let the public know the man is pathetic and a menace to the moral standards of our civilized society. The story you will go back to the Prophet with is one of the scandalous event of fraternization, which happened tonight in the very eyes of the public and for which solely one Draco Malfoy is responsible.  
You will also have it printed that  _a reliable source from the Ministry_ – who asked to remain undisclosed at this point –  let it slip that a certain rich young man of dubious character is under the investigation for illegal exertion of his influence and ill use of his family wealth to damage the reputation of a certain well-respected member of the wizarding community beyond repair. It will also be thoroughly investigated whether any illegal magic was used to get the victim to comply,” he added for good measure, knowing full well that this – if nothing else – would spike the interest and amount to no small level of agitation of a certain Malfoy. Malfoy  _Senior_ , to be exact. His next target.

Some time during this endless hell of an evening, Harry became aware that he desperately needed all the allies he could find if he ever stood a chance of getting Ron back. And – with no small amount of surprise to himself – the first person that came to mind was Lucius Malfoy. The old pureblood would be livid at the thought of his son making out with  _a man_  in full view of the public. There was no saying how far would he be willing to go, if that man was a Weasley. 

Lucius  _loathed_  the Weasleys. And even though he did not hate Ron above other Weasleys, he was Arthur Weasley’s son and that sort of did the job. Harry was willing to bet everything he owned that there wasn’t a man alive today that Lucius Malfoy hated more than Arthur Weasley. Everything about Arthur simply rubbed Lucius the wrong way and at the few unfortunate occurrences that got those two in the same room at the same time, there were literally sparks flying. Lucius got in a fist-fight with him, for Christ’s sake, how un-Malfoyian was that!? Harry often wondered what was in the background of such passionate hatred. Did something happen at Hogwarts? Their mutual loathing  _did_  seem to go an awful long time back! They were only a few years apart, those two, they must have shared their breathing space at one point or another. Well, Harry supposed it didn’t matter - he couldn’t ask either of them and the one important thing that was real, was Lucius’s horrible antagonism towards the Weasleys. 

Harry tried to imagine how the proud old man would feel when he found out that the spawn of his number one enemy got his very married son, his precious Draco, the apple of his eye, to abandon all reservations and kiss him stupid for the entire world to see. He would be  _murderous_! And Harry needed to profit on that spiteful sentiment.

Getting Lucius on his side was essential. The powerful patriarch of the Malfoy family was one of the few people in this world, if not the only one, who had the power to bring Draco to his knees - and he had numerous tools to do it. For example – how would Malfoy Junior like it in a brave new world with no job – given recent events and Rita’s likely report of fraternization Harry was sure he could arrange that – and with none of the daddy dearest’s money to fall back to? 

And then there was Draco’s son. The little Scorpius. As powerful a tool for extortion as they come. Children always were. Recent events in Harry’s life made him bitterly aware of that. As far as he remembered, Draco was said to be fiercely protective of his son and quite enamoured with the boy. He truly seemed to adore the little one and that could only work in Harry’s favour. Another priceless thing to lose. And as much worth as the little Scorpius held to Draco, Harry was certain, he was just as precious in good ol’ Lucius’s eyes. With him around, Draco was no longer the sole heir to the Malfoy line. Perhaps he could simply be… skipped in favour of a more… compliant family member? Harry had no doubt that Lucius wouldn’t blink before blackmailing his son into obedience by threatening to take little Scorpius away one way or another. And then Draco would be left with nothing. It would certainly serve the bastard right! 

Oh, yes, Harry was determined to make Draco find out what  _exactly_  he was putting on the line for Ron. 

But Lucius would have to wait. First thing in the morning. Tonight Harry’s job was done. He was drained, exhausted, destroyed. 

And he still had to deal with a disoriented Skeeter. On a last moment’s inspiration he side-apparated her to a small coffee-bar in the vicinity of Ron’s flat.

“Have someone with a camera wait here while you get your story ready,” he told her. “If you’re lucky you might get your pictures yet. Ron often comes here to grab a snack and if Malfoy’s with him…” 

He winced nervously, trying to shake an unpleasant image and an ensuing painful thought of Ron doing  _s_ omething so personal with Malfoy that he might introduce him to one of his favourite places to hang out in the city. The thought just hurt too deep and this… it needed to be done, if he wanted the story to work. He decided to do it this way and now he had to stick to it, hard as it may be. But he was too fragile to even risk a look at the windows of Ron’s flat, afraid of what he might see there derailing him completely. He couldn’t allow himself to think what his best mate might be up to, he couldn’t handle more of this cursed night. Instead, he decided to disapparate quickly before his befuddled brain and aching heart would make him do something he would come to regret. He had no a clear destination in his mind when he disapparated, which was just flat out dangerous to say the least, given the cloudy state of his tired brain, but strangely enough, he ended up at The Burrow.

And for the first time that night Harry smiled a worn out smile, suddenly aware of what took him here. He let himself in and tip-toed to the bedroom occupied by his children. He kneeled down next to the magically enlarged bed, hosting them all, and simply watched them dream the undisturbed dreams of the innocents. Tonight he desperately needed the comfort of their company. They were a balm to his damaged soul; he could watch them sleep for hours.

Little James slept like a log, one could literally break bricks on his back and he wouldn’t flinch. One of his arms was casually stretched over his little brother in what suspiciously looked like protective manner - something he would undoubtedly fiercely deny when wide awake. They fought like cats and dogs, of course, like two siblings and would-be alpha males always did. 

Albus, Harry’s little carbon copy, was a far lighter sleeper. Even in his sleep he always shifted and turned endlessly as if constantly trying to find a more suitable position. But tonight he somewhat miraculously seemed to have settled comfortably under his big brother’s arm, snuggling ever closer to the comforting warmth of another body until he was all but completely tucked under James’s shoulder. And they both continued to slumber peacefully.

And then there was Lily, his little princess. And her overly large Babbity Rabbity, a fluffy worn-out plush toy that was almost bigger than herself; the one she was perfectly unable to go to sleep without. It had never failed to make Harry smile. A little, because seeing her little carrot head peaking out between the rabbit ears was just hilarious; and more than a little, because he was able to provide his daughter with something he never had and had desperately wanted as a child - a small on-the-spot comfort, a soft little bed companion you could tell all your secrets to and whom you trusted vehemently to protect you when you drifted off to sleep. A safe haven in your very arms. A tell-tale sign that someone cared and loved you dearly. Uncle Ron’s present.

Ron… God, had it really been just a little over 24 hours ago when he stretched his exhausted limbs over him, once again destroyed by the mind-blowing sex the redhead never failed to provide? Had it really been only a day since Ron nuzzled against him and asked softly: “Stay… just tonight…” And he had said no, and he had damned himself to this hell of a day when he saw the light in those blue eyes fade and slowly be replaced by disappointment and resentment. And then Ron, his Ron, who had moments before made him dissolve into absolute bliss and surrender, stared at him with hurt and anger in his crystal blue eyes and hissed at him as if he was talking to an enemy: “Then stop treating me like some bloody man-whore, Potter, and get the fuck out of here!” 

And everything went to pot from that moment on. For once Ron was unrelenting, growling insults through the clenched teeth, pain and spite etched into his every feature and he wouldn’t listen to anything Harry had to say. He barely gave him enough time to get dressed, throwing robes at him with dark fuming violence and all but pushed him in the Floo, for once deaf to Harry’s desperate pleas to be reasonable. 

Harry urgently needed to make things right between them. He wanted his Ron back; as a friend, as a lover, it didn’t even matter at this point. He missed him; he missed his overwhelming warm presence so bad it ached physically, a dull dark pain in the centre of his chest as if he was constantly just a bit out of breath. He had to rectify this somehow; he couldn’t stand Ron hating him. Yes, he hoped he would dream about Ron tonight, about the time when it was just the two of them in the world of black and white and simple. He could do with a world of the thousand shades of grey, what he couldn’t do without, was Ron. He needed him back in his world, back by his side, just… back. At any price.

Without further ado Harry whispered a charm to enlarge the children’s bed some more and squeezed himself next to the row of small warm bodies, healing his tattered soul instantly with their soft breathing and the silly little sounds they made in their sleep. It was all for them. And for him. For Ron. He’d do anything to keep it all. 

And before he knew it, Harry Potter drifted off to sleep, but his tired brain knew better than to let him dream of Ron. His sleep was a dreamless slumber of utter exhaustion as if his body knew that he needed to rest badly. He had his work cut out for him the following morning and he had to be quick and sharp to do it. It would take all of his magic to win his life back.


	6. Into the (spot) light

Draco Malfoy was dreaming the most wonderful dream. He was safely tucked in a comfort of warm embrace that simply felt  _right_  down to the last fibre of his shattered body and if feeling at home had a scent, he was immersed in it. And so completely happy, he was perfectly comfortable with the idea of never waking up again.  _Ever_. There was no way something so exquisite could extend to the real world.

So he kept his eyes shut and hoped to stay hidden in his sweet imaginary shelter made of dreams some more. He was bound to be disappointed when the light of the day crept in and left him stranded, shivering and, once more, alone.

So he was surprised, startled even, when someone’s long warm fingers threaded unexpectedly - but, oh, so gently - through his hair, somehow succeeding in making him feel even warmer, safer and, strangely,  _loved_. Then that someone leaned closer and pressed a soft lingering kiss on the side of his neck, just below the earlobe – and the effect was immediate, the feeling overwhelming. There was something about that particular kiss that flooded Draco with the sense of longing and belonging and with a long sigh he slowly melted into the person next to him. None of the usual reservations came to mind. That simple touch of another body, the  _only_ one body that came with that particular heavenly scent and warmth, spelled want, tenderness and intimacy Draco never knew before.

And suddenly it swam into his consciousness that if he  _did_  open his eyes, the reality for once, just this once, might actually beat his dreams with the treasure it had to offer. One  _very special_ treasure. Tall… and muscled… Wonderfully hot. And  _redheaded_ , definitely redheaded. Nothing else would ever do for Draco. Not ever again. Not after last night.

He could smell him already; that earthy manly smell of long dried sweat on a warm body mingled with the tiniest scent of herbal-smelling shampoo emanating from the silken strands of hair, caressing his skin - and now he desperately needed to see him. Just to make sure that it was  _his_  silken fiery hair tickling his neck as the soft mouth continued its slow exploring journey over the dips and curves of his collar bones; just to stare down those incredible sky-blue eyes and start counting that endless expanse of golden freckles stretched underneath them. He needed to see to believe, he could still not believe his luck.  
But just when his eyelids almost fluttered open, his face was instantly covered by one of the big hands, closing over them again and the warm morning voice whispered in his ear: 

“Shhh, go back to sleep, beautiful… nothing to see here…  just playing a little…”

And, yes, God, he was exhausted… and aching all over… and quite unable to move, having been pinned under that magnificent body. So he gave up his effort before there really was one and closed his eyes again, enjoying his other sensations coming to life. It  _was_  him anyway, he would know that deep rich voice in his sleep. And he was clearly set on spoiling Draco this morning.

He could feel him snuggle closer and once again kiss him below the ear softly. “God, I love your neck…” he purred in his ear. “So long… and slender… and creamy… just perfect… It makes you look so… untouchable… and to think…  you’re mine…” he whispered in a voice suddenly ringing with fierce possessiveness and it a sent a shiver down Draco’s body, turning him into liquid fire on the spot. Why the hell was he moving so slow?! Why the fuck did he have to explore him so gently, sending goose bumps down his skin with this unexpected tenderness, when Draco needed him all over, right now?! And yet even as the large fingers caressed him so delicately as if every touch tried to offer an apology for his earlier brutalities - Draco instinctively knew this was going to be different. Not only for him, but also for Ron. 

“ _We never learned how to do this gently,_ ” he had told him… and yet now he was being gentle, so gentle that Draco didn’t know how much more of the slow stream of seduction he could take. In spite of pain he was feeling all over, desire crept over him like an inevitable tide and he knew he was lost when the soft mouth danced probingly around his sensitive ears again and closed in with a warm whisper: “Need to learn this… need to learn making love…”

And Draco only exhaled in response, once again rendered speechless by his presence, by that unique feeling of closeness and sudden all-consuming arousal he could not resist and which only Ron knew how to provide. Their lips met once again in a slow tentative kiss, nothing like the passionate fury of the night before and Draco was finding out that the soft silken tongue begging entrance was just as undoing, just as seductive and just as mind-blowing. Before he knew it he was lost in that wonderful all-encompassing mouth, coming for air only when he chanced it, completely immersed into the content of the hot velvety cave stealing his breath, inviting him closer, pulling him deeper into the dark vast expanse of uncontrollable desire.

“God, Ron…” he moaned when he managed a gasp of breath but was immediately cut short by a passionate fiery whisper:   
“Teach me, Draco… show me, gorgeous… tell me how you like it…” And Draco surrendered with no mind to resist, heady with love and lost under a spell of his own desire, of  _all_  of his dreams coming true in the body of one man.

“There, right there…” the blond told him quietly with a hitched breath, when the generous soft lips travelled down his neck and closed around his pulse… “Oh, yeah… I love it like this… as if you’re drinking the life out of me and I can feel your heart beat next to mine… I love it when you cover me with your gorgeous massive body and you’re so heavy and commanding and … Merlin… so fucking overwhelming… I love it when you stretch me, when you pin my arms above my head and I’m completely at your mercy… oh, yeah, just like that… and then I watch your fiery head travel down my body…  Ron, please…” he begged suddenly, not knowing what he was begging for, because the redhead was following every one of his whispered fantasies like a good student and Draco was just desperate to have more of him. 

“Yes…  _please_ … you know what I like… you know I like to hear you begging for it…” Ron growled softly and his mouth came back up for a desperate kiss. “God, I just want to eat the pleas out of your mouth… I don’t know if I can do this right… you’re making it hard… so hard… too hard… with your fucking begging blasted mouth…" he whispered feverishly, feeding Draco exactly what he needed: the feeling that he was special, unique and desired.

“Make me beg…” the blond whispered and he could feel the redhead shiver and his breath hitched higher as Draco’s words brushed against the one thing Ron desperately craved: absolute control, a display of power over the man that always made him feel as if he needed to prove himself. Draco had stalked him for so long, he had a pretty clear idea as to what Ron was all about when it came to sex: it was an ultimate power-trip of possession, control and domination for the fiery redhead. This was the one area where Ron wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t admit defeat, wouldn’t submit. As bossy as his Mudblood wife was, in bed she was just his willing toy and – Head Auror or not – the holy Potter  _loved_  to surrender to his fiery lover. Draco’s generously spent money had found that out. 

So he knew what to expect, he knew he was set on giving up his pride, his self-control, his reservations. Shields down, every last one of them, completely. Until he was naked, exposed and vulnerable and that’s just how Ron liked him. In bed, the fiery redhead was the ultimate alpha male. And he was perfect for Draco just like that. A perfect match for what his fucked up mind required. A man who could break him and push him around at will and Draco would be helpless to resist. His body craved a master and Ron could deliver. Oh, boy, could he deliver… in fact, he was delivering right now and so bloody well that Draco felt every control over his actions slipping. He was already hurt – yet he wanted to get hurt some more, right now, right here. His body was pulling him into it. With him it felt right. 

But this time, Ron didn’t let him. It didn’t matter that somewhere down the road of excruciating tenderness Draco became all about desperate hands and hot whispered words, urging him to hurry up, to take him, to come and drive himself deep inside him, just the way he needed him – the redhead clearly had a different plan. Right there and now, he decided to take his time with the infatuated blond, so hopelessly in love. Sweet mouth explored every inch of the marble skin, until it was pulsating with raw life, meticulously worshipping  every stretch of his body, making it tingle with want and Draco was barely holding on to his sanity. The insatiable warm lips sucked up his life-force and brought it back in hot waves of arousal when that incredible smart tongue began leaving a slow, luxurious wet trail from the inside of his thighs, feasting on the sensitive hipbones, leading all the way to his bursting nubs. 

“Harder…” Draco commanded , voice harsh and barely controlled. “Harder, Ron… Merlin, Ron, you need to go harder… you’re driving me insane here…”

His voice as good as begged and when the smart fingers closed in on the sensitive peaks, pinching and rubbing gently, Draco couldn’t stop himself from yelping.

“God, no… don’t… oh, my fucking God, Ron… don’t stop… need more… please, you crazy motherfucker, fucking please, alright?!... “

But Ron seemed to be in a world of his own, not paying attention at all: “God… to have a body like this…” he murmured hotly, tension in his voice almost unbearable. “I’d never leave the room… I’d wank myself into exhaustion… Christ, you’re gorgeous…  How come you want me?... No one’s good enough for you… no one should have you… you’re just perfect… my little perfection…” he whispered, his voice, his hands, his mouth working him with no end, worshiping him feverishly until the blond’s body began jerking on the road to completion and Ron had him right where he wanted him, just below the point of spilling him over – and then it was time to let go and move on. Down the landscape of sculpted stomach, all the way down to the curves of the inviting hipbones – licking around them, sucking on them gently, making a mess out of him - and back up again across the soft milky carpet of delicate ribcages, forever on a quest to find another sensitive spot the redhead had yet to explore. Draco was finding out he had too many. 

Finally the soft tongue sought him out between his legs and the big hands spread him effortlessly, almost lazily as if he wasn’t sure if this was indeed his final destination. But Draco couldn’t wait. A loud moan escaped him before he could hold it back and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand it, if the redhead from hell let go again. He was so turned on, he could come if Ron all but whispered his name. He had to let him know that he couldn’t wait any longer, he needed him, needed him, needed him, now, now, now... He was ready for him, so ready… he’d take anything the man spreading fire all over him had to offer. 

“Ron… “ he begged once more, hopelessly trying to get his attention. “Fuck me, Ron… Fuck me, pleasebabyplease… need you… inside… Ron, please… ”

But the redhead had a pace of his own. He licked up his shaft slowly, once, twice, almost absent-mindedly, making his body twitch in a desperate effort to get some more of that heavenly feeling and then the lovely young man with a wild look in his blue eyes looked straight at him: “You’re hurt…  down there…” he said quietly and his fingers touched his puckered pulsating hole with uttermost gentleness. He merely smiled innocently at Draco’s attempt to capture them and impale his crazed body onto them - and then they were gone. 

“Let me make you feel better…” he whispered instead and suddenly his head disappeared between Draco’s slim thighs and an instant cry almost tore the blond apart. The pleasure, denied for so long, was overwhelming. Strong big hands held him stretched and open and the slick tongue drew lazy slow circles around his hole, smaller and smaller, closer and closer, until the wonderful skilled muscle closed in on it, probing with long slow licks and finally disappearing into that private cavity that welcomed and craved its succulent invader with erratic spasms.

“Oh, my fucking  _God_ , Ron…  _more_ … more of that… you gorgeous bastard… more… oh, please,  _please_ , love, more… oh, don’t you dare stop, don’t ….  _Fuck_ , Ron! Christandfuckingmerlin, Ron!” The delicious tongue was replaced by first one, and then two long digits that slowly slipped in and knew just where to look for and find that spot… that incredible bundle of nerve-endings that made Draco abandon all restraint and scream out loud in lust and need, desperately seeking more and more of wonderful contact with the beloved fingers, massaging expertly. Rubbing gently, intently, with just the right amount of pressure, the man was clearly a master of his trade and Draco never stood a chance. Those divine fingers were making him dissolve into his own juices with no mercy, far too experienced for his boiling blood and melted brain. 

The big generous mouth finally joined in to feast on his painfully hard cock, making the most impossible undoing little sounds, sending the vibrations up Draco’s very core and every bloody time Ron’s delicious mouth let go of him for a painful lust-filled seconds, those gorgeous blue eyes, dark with desire, stared directly at him, drinking in his pleasure, revelling in elusive pursuit of completion he was keeping just out of his reach.

And it was all too much for Draco. Just watching the beautiful fiery head move between his legs, rising and falling with the desperate jerks of his own body, was enough to have him coming, coming as hard as he was ever going to come. But he was not the only one. His skilful fingers never abandoned their brain-melting ministrations, when Ron suddenly moved in like a starved beast and arched above him. The swollen generous lips closed around Draco’s begging mouth, yelping his desire and his need, and the silken tongue began undoing the last threads holding one Draco Malfoy together. And from then on it was all out-of-control hungry kisses and soft tongues seeking each other inside a wet hot cave; all small stubborn moans and exhaled hot puffs of air, all Draco’s secret fantasies coming to life when Ron growled helplessly into his mouth “ _mine…. Draco, mine_...” time and time again, like a prayer.

His eyes hard and possessive, they simply melted Draco in awe and greedy desire and the blond couldn’t wait to say it; to say those words he needed to hear to believe: “Yours…” he gasped. “Yours, Ron. Yours alone… sweetmerlinandrowena help me, yours... always.” 

It was as good a love statement as any and above all - he knew it was true. And Ron knew it, too.

One last rough kiss, given and received with abandon, and then there was suddenly another heavy silken shaft sliding next to Draco’s and Ron’s hand went out to seek the blond’s. Their fingers intertwined around two heavy purple pricks, rubbing against each other insanely, trapped in an erratic dance of seeking release inside the tight cave of their joined hands. Desperate hands tightly fisted two leaking cocks about to burst and suddenly their unabashed screams wrapped around each other just like their fingers did. Every wonderful out-of-control jerk was a notch up the ladder of boundless pleasure, all tenderness gone, just raw hungry need to please and be pleased, pushing them into each other until they were moving as one, fast, furious and unstoppable.

Through a black mist of his bliss Draco heard Ron curse through gritted teeth in feverish urgency:

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, bitch… how is it you make me want to come so hard… what fucking dark magic is this, making me want to fuck myself right into you… so deep… bury myself into you… and never come out… oh, fucking Godric, what are you doing to me, Draco…!?”

The last was just a desperate growl as the blond finally pushed himself one last time on the wonderful fingers, jerked forward in the beautiful cage made of their flesh and violently exploded into his own realm, come pouring out of him in long endless spurts, long limbs bathed in sweat desperately clinging to his partner in crime, cries of bliss and adoration flowing out like an unstoppable tide, saying his name, saying he loved him, saying he will never be able to tell him just how much. 

And Ron yelped out his surrender, watching him come, milking him through it, pulling him closer, wanting to be right up there with him, seeking him out in their world, the world beyond this one, the private universe of bliss they came to share: “Oh, you incredible… motherfucking… bastard…  Draco, gorgeous… you unbelievable… perfect… lovely… bitch,… you… only you… oh, you have no idea…” 

Ron felt as if his head exploded off his shoulders when he finally came, shooting out one pearly load after another, howling and rocking his hips in abandon, reduced to nothing but loose words, mindless curses and gentle endearments. 

When he finally collapsed on top of the completely destroyed blond youth, Ron closed his eyes and tried to pull his fleeting incoherent thoughts together. Well, fuck, motherfuck… there it was again. Total completion. Where the fuck was all this coming from!? And where did his endeavours to be gentle get lost?! He might need some more practice doing that…  or not. To hell with it... maybe he was not made to be gentle, maybe this was all he was, rough and brutal and… well, it worked, didn’t it? It worked for both of them, it worked just wonderfully. And there it was, that thought that bothered him, gnawing at his wondering brain to no end -why the fuck was he having such mind-blowing climaxes with Malfoy!? 

The blond bastard was down right addictive! It wasn’t like he hadn’t had great sex before; in fact, he thought Harry and him shagged rather spectacularly. But this… was different. It had something… some sort of magic, bonding them together in the moments of their intimacy, so when they came, it seemed as if they came together… and  _boy_ , did they come! He had been fucking men, well, one man, since he was sixteen and yet he could never remember it to be quite this… well, it was fucking earth-shattering, wasn’t it? And he only had to look at the breathless body underneath him to see that it was an equally ground-shifting experience for the blond. 

It occurred to him that perhaps he wasn’t far from the truth, wondering if the Slytherin had used some dark magic on him - it sure felt like that! As if he was always chasing after some sort of control over the blond beauty and though Draco had never denied him, the ridiculously brain-melting way Ron’s body gave into him made him feel as if his precious control somehow eluded him in the last moment. 

Draco Malfoy was driving him crazy. Now, that was unexpected… Not! What else was new? The main question was: Did he care? And Ron found out, much to his surprise, the answer was pretty straight forward: _Hell, no!_ As long as the clearly devoted young man was making him come as if the bloody world collapsed on itself, Ron couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck if he was driving him a bit crazy on the side. It was Draco Malfoy after all. A slick, cheeky lot, all of them Malfoys. And besides… 

It wasn’t just sex that was bloody brilliant. There was something there he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but somehow the blond was making him warm on the inside, somewhere suspiciously close to  his heart, right now beating loudly and out of control, just the way the Slytherin made it. And Ron had been through too much in his life to question this feeling and pass up on it. It was undeniably there and he decided to let it take him where it may.

He rolled off the blond youth, still breathless, and chanced a look at the motionless body next to his. What he saw, brought a smile to his lips. The beautiful young man was just lying there, boneless, numb, his eyes closed; with the expression of utter bliss and completion on his face, somehow making him look even younger, almost childlike. His arm fell flatly between their bodies and his fingers sought out Ron’s. 

“Yours…” he whispered quietly and Ron was suddenly flooded with an unexpected mixture of protectiveness and possessiveness.

“Mine,” he closed his big hand around his as if closing the agreement. And he was. A strange thought as it was, unimaginable all but a day ago, Draco Malfoy had somehow managed to become part of his life he was completely comfortable with.   
He rolled onto his side and leaned on his elbow. He watched him for a while; what an aristocrat, the whole of him…! Perfect marble skin, now bearing proof someone had marked it for their own; graceful long toned limbs, made for the spot-light; delicately chiselled profile and that uniquely silver blond river of incredibly soft hair, that seemed to just call on to his fingers to touch it. And he did, softly at first, adoring the texture, then letting them slide down towards his face just to come and rest on his cheek. Draco opened those unfathomable grey eyes and locked them with his. He smiled, almost shyly and when he spoke his voice was unexpectedly soft:

“Now you know what I like… “ When he saw a look of momentary confusion  in those beloved blue orbs, he smiled again, this time just a hint of the usual smirk present: “Well,  _you_ , of course… I like you, as you come, Weasley… Ron. All of you. Just as you are. You don’t have to try to be gentle for me… but you can, if you like. I’ll love it just the same, cause it’s you. You can be rough, I don’t care. It’s you. All I ever wanted.”

Now how was it that Draco Malfoy never failed to undo him with words? When he was set on hurting him, he did so expertly. Now, when he came to love him, he knew how to reach through to him and offer those words Ron didn’t even know how badly he needed to hear.  _All I ever wanted_ , he told him… It somehow made him swell with pride and at the same time made him feel warm and fuzzy – and Ron didn’t do fuzzy. 

So Ron, being Ron, decided this was as good a moment as any to try and make sense of them, of what they’ve become. Eyes focused on the pale face, today bathing in uncommon soft light, he asked quietly:

“Do you know why you’re even here? Do you know why I didn’t hex you to ashes when you confessed to ruining my life?”

He could see him flinch and the grey eyes immediately grew wide with panic. 

And indeed, Draco’s heart almost jumped out of his chest. What!? Where the hell did this come from?! Why was Weasley so set on trying to give him an early cardiac?! First he reaches so gently into his world between dreams and dawn, wakes him up in the most heavenly way he could only dream of, shoots him right up into the stars with his smart fingers and needy mouth – and now this! 

The Slytherin felt a sudden knot in his throat form. He was hoping he could avoid this topic for a while longer, because, really, he had no explanations for his actions, not a good one anyway. And because he had no answer, he gave none, he just shook his head numbly, hoping this… was not the bitter end of something he could no longer imagine living without.

But when the palm of the big hand touched his cheek softly, he found hope and chanced a look at Ron, who was staring at him solemnly: 

“I had a good mind to do it, you know, when I heard you say it...  For a moment there I really wanted to hurt you… but then I looked at you, standing there all alone, owning up to what you’ve done, knowingly putting on the line everything this could be… and more than anything I wanted to know why… I…” he paused trying to put into words how Draco’s confession made him feel. “I was pissed off… but at the same time you made me trust you like you never could have done sucking up to me… Besides, I’ve never had anyone go all this way for me, to do all these things you confessed doing, just to get to me, to get my attention, I was never worth that much trouble to anyone…”

“Because they’re all enormous  _fools_ , that’s what they are!” Draco interrupted him heatedly, his air suddenly as Malfoyian as it got. “They don’t see you for what you are, they don’t see your true worth like I do. You’re just… you’re perfect. It’s not only how you look - though, by the way, people are snapping their necks to get a good look when you walk by, you’re like that Muggle neon sign, impossible to miss… but there’s more to you and one would have to be  _daft_  not to see it. I’d never give you up, never, if you were mine, what was that  _idiot_ of a Potter thinking, pushing you away like he did, is beyond me! I swear to God my heart stopped when you chose him…”

“Oh, but I didn’t choose him,” Ron interrupted, voice firm and adamant. But Draco would not be swayed: 

“Don’t say that, I was there, you asked him to kiss you first, you…” 

“I only did it to show him why I won’t be with him any more,” Ron said quietly, but with unmistakable determination. “I know Harry inside out, he needed to see for himself. He never would have chosen me, not with Ginny around, anyway. I knew that. Had I chosen Harry, I would have been with Harry and that’s that,” he said simply and looked straight at Draco and took his breath away with the intensity of feelings in the electric blue eyes. 

“I would have yielded once again, I would have let him neglect me once more and have him push me around for some time longer. I would have done it, if I wanted to be with him. But I didn’t. Because I chose you. You… no one’s ever done anything like that for me… to wait so long, to risk all that… for me, of all people. So I, too, risked everything, putting you in front of the same choice as I did Harry and I did so blindfolded because, frankly… you’re just too much of an enigma to me, Draco Malfoy. I had no way of knowing what you were going to do. But what you said to Harry… it was worth taking a chance to see if you were willing to put your words into actions and go all the way to be with me. If you had denied me… 

I would have gone home alone that day. I won’t lie, I would have been bitterly disappointed. But you made me trust you when you spoke of what you’d done so openly. And it was all for me. Where Harry saw deceit, I saw someone giving it all for the person they loved. And it put me on top of the world, hearing that it was me, hearing you say those words of admiration in front of him, what you’ve done, all of it, just to get a chance with me. So for once I went with my heart not with my gut instinct. And it turns out, I was right… You, Draco Malfoy, have turned out to be everything I hoped and more. And if you’re willing to chance it, this…  _thing_ between us – oh, fuck my eloquence! – you know what I mean, what we have going on here – if you’re willing to give it a chance, with all you stand to lose – then goddammit, so am I.” 

And Draco needed to hear no more. He launched himself at him, knocking the redhead on his back in an unexpected assault and landed on top of him unceremoniously, cupping his face with his long aristocratic fingers and just kissed him with everything he had. 

“Thank you,” he managed simply and smiled through his kiss when he saw the blue eyes grow big with surprise. It wasn’t until he spotted a small drop of liquid land on Ron’s face and slide down the curve of his cheek that he realized he was crying. Oh... So that was that, then. He finally turned all sappy and plebeian, because no proper Malfoy would  _ever_  be found crying. And over  _a Weasley_ , of all people. And an enormous feeling of happiness. Goddamn, fucking Weasley, making him embarrass himself like this! He should be able to keep some of his composure, some of his usual grace and dignity – and instead he was crying on top of the redhead like a big fucking nancy! It was just… he was just making him dissolve with all this onslaught of feelings… and rush of joy… and hope… it was all there, everything he ever wanted, when the big hands slid up his back and brought him closer. 

Ron didn’t give him a chance to wipe the embarrassing tears off his face, he pursued to kiss them off instead, one by one, until they stopped pouring out and mortifying the blond and Draco was strangely empty and, once more, completely happy. 

“I’ll take that as a “yes”,” mumbled Ron with one last kiss and brought his wet face down flat to rest on his chest.

“Well… I suppose it’s a  _yes_ …” whispered Draco. “Just about a thousand times over…” 

They needed no more words from then on, they were completely at peace just lying there, Draco listening to the steady beat of Ron’s heart, almost lulling him to sleep, and Ron - Ron was thinking. His blue eyes stared empty into the darkness above them, slowly dissolving in the faint light of a creeping dawn, but his mind was anything but blank. The cogs in his head were turning intensely, with as much speed and resolution as they always did when crisis hit. He was thinking of all the choices he had made and of those that still needed to be made; thinking of the young man in his arms, clinging to him so desperately, whose life was going to change beyond imaginable; thinking of his Harry, of what was broken and what still remained after this night; thinking of his wife, their children, his new life. 

As oblivious as he usually was, his mind was all about strategy and he knew they needed one now. One, that would take Potter by surprise – he would be a deluded fool if he didn’t acknowledge that Harry knew him just as well as Ron knew Harry – a strategy then, that would make his ex-lover back off though he needed to be careful: he could never... he would  _never_  willingly hurt Harry. Harry was all Ron knew that was good and right in this world and hurting Harry was  _not_  an option. But Harry needed to step back this time; for once, this was about Ron’s life and perhaps if he did this right, he could find the elusive happiness yet. And for this to happen, he needed to devise a plan to win over those he needed on his side to make this work and push those who opposed with their backs against the wall. 

And a smart smile slowly spread over his face when he found his answer. He suddenly knew how to play this and he was up to giving Harry one hell of a ride! He did, after all, always love a good game, didn’t he - and right now, losing was out of the question. It was easy, really, when of all the chess pieces, suddenly you were the King… 

He slowly slid his hands down the blond’s back to see if he was still awake and when the grey eyes sleepily opened a fraction he kissed him on the temple.

“I’m taking a shower now, gorgeous…  Go on, grab some more sleep, you look like you could use it. Just one more day to go before the weekend, remember? And then we can roll in bed all you like,” he smiled at him mischievously and rolled him onto his back as gently as he could. And just when he was about to get up the long fingers wrapped around his wrist and a sleepy voice drawled:

“And just where do you think you’re going, Weasley?” Ron almost choked at the sound of this familiar superior voice that was the bane of his existence for the longest time but it had yet to make appearance since their encounter at the Ministry bathroom. But then he saw a slow provoking grin spreading from the soft lips right into the silver eyes and his breath hitched higher. Oh, so the cheeky Slytherin wanted to play smart? Game on, snake! 

Without giving him a chance to think, Ron unceremoniously hooked his arms under the blond’s lithe body, one under his knees, another under the his head, and he was immediately awarded by a startled yelp, followed by a nervous laughter, when he picked him up and proceeded to lift him in his arms like a bride: “Care to join me, then, nancy boy? Let’s see how you enjoy the fresh touch of cold water in the morning, standard procedure for Aurors of all ranks!” 

“Oh, don’t you dare! Let go of me, you Gryffindor brute! Ron, no…!” was all Draco managed, before he was squashed into a shower cubicle and chilly water hit him full force. He positively howled in indignation “ _you horrible carrot-headed wanker_!!!” – because, seriously, no one gets to splash tons of ice cold water over the precious Malfoyian skin! – but then there were soft warm lips covering his and – well, the water wasn’t  _that_ cold after all... 

After a few long moments of intense kissing Draco hardly felt the need to adjust the temperature, but Ron did it for him, because according to him, they smelled about “as fresh as a week old litter” – something Draco would take quite personally if it wasn’t for the lovely hands suddenly roaming his body, rubbing mint-smelling soap all over his skin – and then he decided that it was, actually, quite acceptable for Ron to call him a smelly old troll if he liked to, as long as those gorgeous hands continued to do what they did. The shower got... a bit prolonged and the early morning light was already stretching its long orange fingers across the small flat Ron called home, when they finally stumbled out of the bathroom. 

The redhead proceeded to dry his wet hair with a towel and Draco, who had a bit of self-confessed obsession with Ron’s hair, deliberately looked away with a knot in his throat. He  _did not_  want to pounce at Weasley only moments after… anyway, he did not! He just… needed to find something to focus on rather quickly, just to make sure that his mind didn’t wander in a strange direction. So he took a good long look around and barely managed to suppress a smile when he saw Ron watching him rather nervously from the corner of an eye. So not  _all_  of the old Weasley was gone… there was still a shadow of old insecurity at the bottom of those blue eyes and Draco found it endearing.

“It is a bit... cramped...” he said carefully, just to see his reaction and he saw him look away and bite his lip in the world sexiest manner. “And very orange,” he teased for a moment longer and Ron’s eyes just went a shade darker.

“Well, it’s all I’ve got, Malfoy,” he shrugged, his voice a bit hoarse as if he was trying to persuade himself it didn’t matter what the blond thought of his little domain. “It’s hardly a Manor, but…” 

And this was as far as he got. In two long strides the blond was at him and cupped his hands around his face, cutting him short by a long loving kiss directly on his lips.

“Oh,  _do_  shut up, you silly twat!” he whispered when he made sure he got his point across. “It’s gorgeous. My new favourite piece of real-estate, really. It has a  _fabulous_  bathroom, with a very fortunately positioned towel rail for…  _support_ … And don’t you  _ever_  dare throw that bed away … I don’t know if I could bare the absence of all the wonderful memories…” He felt his lips curve into a smile and he knew that for Ron it was a special kind of happy if he could make him appreciate what little he owned. 

“Shut up, Malfoy and quit lying through your teeth, you’re horrible at it,” Ron mumbled, quite unable to mask the – silly, really! – joy that the rich youth was willing to ignore all the amenities the place lacked. “Now, I understand you’re quite capable of supporting that tiny little body of yours on air alone, but I’ve grown up to be a big boy and I have my needs… well, yes, those, too, as I’m sure you’re aware after last night, but I was actually talking about  _food_  for once, you insatiable… horrible… pervert… oh, do stop kissing me or we’re never getting out of the flat! As foreign a concept as it may be to your starved aristocratic skinny arse, we, the Weasleys, have to eat to stay alive.”

“Firstly,” said Draco squeezing as much of the usual drawl and poise between the kisses he was not quite willing to give up just yet. “I positively resent the implication that there are any skinny arses to be found in this room at present! Yours is clearly anything but and mine… well, I quite pride myself on thinking my  _arse_  to be a fine accessory to my rather very well groomed and delectable body. I dare you to disagree, Weasley, but  _do_ tread carefully there or the implications will be grave!”

He could barely suppress a giggle himself when he saw Ron throw his head back and positively howl in laughter.

“You crazy posh tosser!” the redhead barely managed through his laughter. “Honestly, Malfoy, your modesty is priceless! God forbid I should say something to deprive myself of access to that unforgettable  _queen of arses_ , surely my life would no longer be worth living. No worries, my lips are sealed, your arse is truly and properly worshipped by this humble commoner!”

“I  _do_  hope that was  _not_  a hint of sarcasm in your voice right there, Weasley, or your arse-worshiping privileges will be promptly removed,” Draco barely managed to keep his voice steady when he was hit by another wave of resounding laughter by the redhead. God, he loved to see him laugh like that, unabashed, loud and vibrating with happiness. He could do this all day, every day, just to see him laugh like that, with light and joy trapped in the blue eyes and he found a smile creeping onto his own face if only as a reflection of that boundless joie de vivre. 

So he dragged it some more, to buy himself some time, piling up precious memories for moments not as perfect as this one.  
“Besides, I wasn’t finished yet. “Firstly”, Weasley, implies that there’s a “secondly” coming, at least in the civilized vocabulary. Therefore – secondly, I’m quite starved myself, actually, so  _do_  be a generous host and feed me copiously or I just might pass out on that lovely bed you’ve got going on there…”

“Oh, no you don’t, Malfoy!” Ron grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him closer. “As much as I love my bed and everything it implies, we are leaving  _right now_  or you’ll have to drag my feeble body around!  _Out_  with your admittedly lovely arse!” The redhead let his arms embrace him and when his large hands settled comfortably on the lovely buns, Draco was far from complaining. He rested like that for a long moment filled with serenity, then the big hands slid tightly up his back and got tangled in his hair, bringing him closer. The soft mouth found him once again, sharing its intoxicating warmth and he realized he found it fascinating kissing a taller man as he rarely had a chance to do that… But Ron was just a giant beast of a person, wasn’t he? - and Draco felt that perhaps this looming presence was one of the redhead’s qualities he found the most attractive. Just by being there, he made him feel safe and somehow, at home.

“Ready?” Ron whispered and Draco didn’t quite understand, but he nodded nonetheless and let their fingers intertwine.

The flash of light hit as soon as Ron opened the door. Reflexively, Draco went for his wand, but he felt strong fingers close around the palm of his hand and stop him. 

“Don’t…” Ron said quietly. “It’s just the camera… Potter,” he answered simply, when he saw Draco’s eyes go wide and a silent question in them form. “He’s the only one who knows about this place, he must have sent them. He knows my favourite spot to take a snack is right there, behind the corner, and he knows I never use magic getting there; the place is Muggle.” 

“The bastard,” hissed Draco, but Ron merely shrugged as the camera went on clicking tirelessly. “He must think we would find this a nuisance, but frankly, after last night, I can’t be bothered about hiding in the dark corners anymore, even if I could. So what do you say, Malfoy – are you up to giving them their money’s worth?”

Ron looked deep in those grey eyes and felt the body next to him relax. A small smile crept inside the silver orbs and the blond suddenly straightened himself to his full height, his pose instantly as Malfoyian as it got. 

“Well, of course, Weasley. In fact, nothing could give me greater pleasure. With your permission…” He glanced sideways at the camera with his usual haughty air of slight boredom the Malfoys always held in store for those unworthy to clean their boots – but not quite - and then proceeded to turn towards the smirking redhead. He sunk his long fingers right into the silken fiery hair without hesitation, just like he always wanted to do, brought his lovely face down and kissed him straight on the mouth with everything he had.

He heard the gasps of surprised cameraman, more frantic clicking, even catcalls and whistles, but none of it mattered, when he felt the warm soft lips respond and Ron murmured into his mouth: “Oh, yeah… that’s what I’m talking about… that’s how I love you best, Draco…”

And Draco Malfoy knew he could live to be a thousand years old and never forget when he heard Ron Weasley mention “love” and his name in the same sentence. It was magic; unforgettable; for him alone.

And Ron simply continued to kiss him, feeling strangely moved and elated by his partner’s compliance and obvious affection; he drew strength and warmth from his confident presence, simply radiating love, and for once, he felt liberated for not having to hide his feelings, his actions, his intentions.

 _Complete honesty._  The one weapon Harry could never afford to use. He could only hope it would be enough to buy him happiness. 


	7. Malfoy vs. Malfoy (how the battle of white and... well, Black was set in motion)

“Impossible!!!”

The elegant fist of the Master of Malfoy Manor came crushing down the fragile coffee table with all its might, destroying the hand-made piece of art on the spot and leaving no doubt about the brutal strength the tailor-made clothes hid.

Narcissa Malfoy was not a woman to flinch lightly, but this time she positively jumped.  _This_ … was highly unorthodox behaviour for a man that was groomed to be at his best in the most impossible situations. That’s what got them through what Narcissa still thought of as “occupation” of their home by that dangerous deranged half-blood lunatic, that abominable Voldemort person, Lucius had so carelessly – and foolishly! – welcomed into their home. She still couldn’t quite forgive him for that transgression. She doubted she ever could. It endangered everything Narcissa couldn’t imagine living without and it had nothing to do with the cold walls of the beautiful Manor. It was the childhood home to her beloved son and that –  _half-person_  defiled it to a point that Draco refused to ever again come to live with them inside those walls. Instead he got himself a job. Narcissa still sighed when she thought of  _that_  embarrassment.

And now her beautiful strong husband, who kept most of his composure through the blood and gore taking place in this very parlour they took their breakfast in - that very man was behaving like a common brute. She couldn’t _possibly_  have that.

“Lucius, darling,  _do_  mind my family heritage, if you please; as you are well aware - this table was a wedding present from my mother, I couldn’t  _bear_  it, if anything was to happen to it.” With these words she flicked her wand hand and for the moment it looked as if the shattered remains of the table liquefied until they assembled themselves back together and there was no sign of abuse left. Narcissa Malfoy could have written any book on household charms sold in England. Not that she would ever bother to. In her opinion knowledge should be for the privileged, the masses just abused and corrupted what was beautiful clean magic.

“There you go, that’s settled,” she spoke with composure and looked at her husband with cool reprimand, though not entirely unkindly. “Now, would you kindly care to explain why on Merlin’s lovely earth did you  _ever_  attempt to make me spill my morning tea? What could possibly be so grave, my love?”

“See for yourself,” he seethed through gritted teeth and pushed the morning issue of The Daily Prophet, still warm from the print, across the table. Narcissa could barely withhold herself from rolling her eyes up in disapproval of such uncivilized behaviour, but took the offered newspaper anyway and unfolded it.

And blinked. And stared. And stared some more. But the picture just never got any different. It was as her husband put it – impossible. The elegant blond young man looking provokingly at the camera before launching himself at the tall redheaded  _man_  could NOT be her beautiful precious son. It could NOT be him sinking his fingers in the undoubtedly  _very Weasley hair_ , snogging an evidently happy  _man_  stupid. This… was impossible. This was some impostor. Someone this filthy excuse for a newspaper paid to pose as her son, dragging their family name through the mud, just because of the stupid choices Lucius had made nearly a decade ago. This… was unacceptable. Something needed to be done about this fraud promptly!

“I’m afraid it’s true,” spoke an unknown voice across the room and Narcissa had her wand pointed at it before she realized what she was doing.

“Me is so sorry, Madame Malfoy… Sir… Harry Potter, Sir, just broke in here, not wanting to stop when Wheezy asked to announce him,” squealed a tiny House-elf who had apparently finally managed to catch up with the visitor and was, as result, completely out of breath. “Wheezy is sorry, Madame, Sir… But he is _Harry Potter_ , the wards is open to him….”

“That will be all, Wheezy, we shall talk about the negligence of your duties  _after_  our distinguished guest is gone,” spoke Lucius Malfoy coldly, finally taking control of the situation. Of course he knew that the House-elf was not too blame – for a man with a past as shady as his, he could count his lucky stars to be able to continue to call the Malfoy Manor his residence and of course, the wards were always dutifully open to the Head Auror, the Saviour himself. It just  _infuriated_  him to no end that it had to be so.

“Thank you, Wheezy, I’m sure your master is grateful for showing me the way and of course he wouldn’t  _dream_  of punishing you afterwards, it is, after all,  _against the law_ ,” the raven-haired youth stressed without flinching and Lucius could do nothing but grit his teeth in acquiescence some more and dismiss the miserable little creature with an imperious wave of his hand.

“ _Do_  lower your wand, Narcissa, darling. I’m sure you recognise the visitor, after all we have all had the pleasure of meeting the famous Mr. Potter before,” Lucius continued coldly and only then Narcissa became aware she was still pointing her wand at the prominent visitor. She lowered it hastily and smiled as beatifically as the circumstances allowed.

“Forgive me, Mr. Potter, I am not usually so inhospitable towards our visitors. I was just slightly… thrown  off balance, shall we say, by the shocking  _lies_  this abominable publication decided to publish,” she motioned to the newspaper, still open on the front page, with the impostor of her son as determined as ever to show his affection towards one member or the other of the infamous Weasley mob. Her gesture was a silent plea for him to elaborate on his reason for visiting as it obviously had something to do with the horrible piece of false news soiling her table.

The young man had clearly not yet seen the newspaper with his own eyes as he instantly paled to the point of turning grey at the sight of the graphic picture and his shoulders seemed to have sunk a little – but just for a moment. With determination that was built into his very core, Harry Potter straightened himself up and turned away from the insulting publication lest he set it a-fire without his wand.

“I’m afraid it is true,” he repeated dryly, clearly working on keeping his composure. “Had you bothered to read the article, you would have found out that there was… an incident at the Silver Spoon restaurant last night. For once, every word in there is very likely to be true, as improbable as that sounds. Your son… he invited my… he invited Ron Weasley to dinner to the said restaurant last night and though it was deemed to be a business dinner, it soon became obvious that your son had other plans. He had, after all, transferred to on-the-field duty as soon as Ron did and I must say I found it highly suspicious when I found out he was paired off to him – I assure you, no sane Ministry official would ever put a Weasley and a Malfoy on the same team, it would simply be asking for trouble and probably as dysfunctional as it gets.

Either way, when I found out there was to be dinner, I decided to follow them there, to at least try and talk some sense into Ron before it was too late, before your son – and doubt not, it was all his doing, I was there! – made them both look like fools. When I arrived there, I confronted your son about his… choices – I admit, try as I might, I could find  _no reason_  why Draco would ever want to spend any time outside of the working obligation with my… with Ron. The whole thing just sounded insane. But your son assured me that he knew very well what he was doing and that – according to himself, though I’m not sure I trust his explanation – he had developed certain… feelings for Ron over the years.”

Pausing at these words Harry looked at them intently, to see if it sparked any kind of memory, response, anything that would suggest Draco had shared his alleged feelings for Ron with his parents. But when Lucius’s face just remained blank, though going even a shade paler than his already ashen-white colour, making the older man look shocked out of his wits, Harry couldn’t miss the tiniest twitch of hands of the haughty Madame Malfoy. So there was something…

This thought made him even more bitter and determined to ensure their cooperation. He looked at the lady of the house pointedly, in case she wanted to come forward with any information that might prove valuable to them in handling the delicate situation, but she merely stared him down with her cold eyes, clearly unwilling to share any of the private family dealings with an outsider.  _Good then_ , he thought defiantly,  _soon you will have your dirty laundry all over the wizarding press and try shrugging that off, Madame Ice Queen!_

But he contained his resentment and continued:

“That was not all your son said: he openly admitted to bribing certain Ministry officials to get to Ron and I assure you –  _that_  is a serious offence. It implies corruption and disregard for authority and it  _will be_  investigated most thoroughly.”

He could just see the expression in old Lucius’s eyes shift from shock to anger – the words “Foolish, foolish boy!” might as well have been written all over his sunken face.

“But, as it is obvious from the Prophet here, my words of reason were lost on your son. I admit it didn’t help that I had a tiny private… disagreement - call it a quarrel, I suppose - with Ron beforehand regarding his change of position at work, and he wouldn’t listen to reason either. I doubt he realized the circumstances would deteriorate so quickly. Ron… as you know, he’s a Weasley. He’s got temper, a terrible one, actually. He doesn’t cope very well with being told what to do and I’m afraid he took my words of reason – I told him your son couldn’t possibly love him, that was just ridiculous! - as some sort of a foolish challenge and in front of my very eyes he turned to your son and said:  _Kiss me_.

You won’t find this in a newspaper, I’m certain of it, I was the only one standing close enough to be able to hear what he said and as sure as I am that Ron only said it as some sort of a stupid childish dare – he gets like that sometimes – I assure you, your son took him as seriously as one could. He positively launched himself at my… at Ron, in front of  _everybody_ , the whole damn restaurant was staring in disbelief, me and my wife included, when your son proceeded to kiss my best mate with what appeared to be great eagerness.”

This time Narcissa Malfoy couldn’t stop her hand from jumping at her mouth, desperately aimed at silencing an audible expression of shock and despair.

Sweet Merlin, Draco, what  _have_  you done, she thought to herself miserably. And what have _I_  done, she reprimanded herself. Thinking back, she clearly remembered a summer when Draco just wouldn’t shut up about that “blasted Weasley” boy, bringing him up in every conversation, over and over again, until she felt compelled to mention it “inappropriate” at some point. She couldn’t remember ever hearing anything about the Weasley boy from him again after that, but she should have known better than to think this obsession will pass without consequences. Draco was part Black – when he was passionate about something, he was downright obsessive and this obsession, when he could no longer discuss it with anyone, must have festered inside him and  _this_  – was the sad result. She could have slapped herself at that moment. How could she have ever forced him to deal with feelings like that alone?

She had always hoped that once Draco fell for someone, she would be privy to his most private thoughts and feelings in regard of that person – it’s just that this person never came along and his eventual marriage was practically a business deal between two very influential, very old pureblood houses. But she was finding out now that those feelings had come, just a bit earlier than she would have expected them to - and pointed at a very unlikely person, if there was any excuse to be sought – and she had just let them slide by and let her poor secretly passionate son deal with them unguided, with no counsel, with no one to talk to. Small wonder this turned out to be such a mess!

Poor child, what he must have gone through when he realized he was dealing with this… undesirable affection! If only she had paid him more attention and she took notice of his inner-dealings and became properly alarmed when, over the years, there simply wasn’t anyone that spiked her son’s interest – this could have turned out entirely differently. If only she had talked to him about it, rather than shut him up, she was certain she could have re-directed his interest to a more…  _suitable_  choice of a love-interest. But it was what it was now and Narcissa Malfoy was not a person to dwell over the spilled milk. This disastrous unwelcome situation had to be resolved quickly and with as little damage to everyone involved. Seeing that for once Lucius was not up to the job as the old pureblood was on a verge of exploding in his aristocratic confines, she elegantly took over and spoke directly to the young man she still somewhat despised but learned how to deal with cautiously over the years.

“I thank you very much Mr. Potter in my own name as well as in the name of my husband for this detailed and no doubt precise information. As you are known to be a reliable source, I do not doubt a word that came out of your mouth and I thank you again for the damage control you tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to implement in the past few hours over this absurd situation. However, I’m sure you will understand I still have some questions for you, yes?”

Harry nodded sternly, not fooled by her graciousness – he knew if there was any way to avoid involving him, Narcissa Malfoy would have taken it, but as she didn’t have much choice, she adapted to the situation like the good Slytherin she was.

“Ask away,” he said simply and braced himself for the inevitable.

“First of all, I would like to know if you are aware of my son’s present location. It is imperative that we talk to Draco as soon as possible, see what can be done to reverse the damage as much as one can. As his parents, I trust we still have some influence over him, even though he’s proven quite obstinate in taking some of the… less favourable decisions alone in the last few years,” she raised her eyebrows to express silent reprimand of her son’s choices.

Harry frowned for a moment, cast a quick  _Tempus_  and replied calmly: “Actually, I think they might be at work. I guess that’s where they were headed when this picture was taken, Ron would never have gotten up this early on his day off work. And I don’t think he would consider taking time off only one day into his new work-assignment, he is extremely thorough when it comes to his work. I trust Draco is with him as they were paired off. Though I wouldn’t worry too much about them spending much more time together at work if I were you, I took the liberty to make certain…  _arrangements_  before I came here,” Harry smiled slightly and somehow that confident smile made Narcissa uncomfortable.

As always, that boy - well, he was a young man now, wasn’t he? – just radiated determination and self-assuredness and somehow her motherly heart got squeezed in the thought that he made sure her Draco was miserable right now. She hated him a little bit for that. She also recognised it needed to be done. Whatever he had said or done at that dreadful place Draco referred to as “ _work_ ” that made sure her son would no longer be welcome there, would score as a victory in her books. She didn’t have to like Potter to approve of his actions. Now, for his motives…

“Now, Mr. Potter, I’m sure whatever you’ve done, it needed to be taken care of and as always, I’m sure you’ve done a brilliant job of it. However – to my next question: as little as I doubt your good intentions I can’t help to be curious about what brings you here in the first place? What motive could you possibly have for being kind enough to inform us of this… unfortunate turn of events in person as well as to continue helping us resolve the embarrassing situation?”

She looked him straight in the face with these words, dead-set on finding out the truth, though she had little hope of being able to perform legilimency on the cautious young prodigy.

But she shouldn’t have bothered. He looked straight in the eye. He knew this question was coming and it had taken him a while to decide he wouldn't lie to her. She was an exceptionally astute woman with very sharp instincts when it came to her son and if he got tangled in lies and half-truths in front of her, he would have instantly lost her trust and any insight into the measures they intended to take to bring Draco to his senses and, possibly, as far away from Ron as possible. Besides, she had once already proved she had a heart when it came to love, even if it was love for her son. He couldn’t have talked about love to the ice-brick that was Lucius Malfoy, but to Narcissa Malfoy Black, a cousin to his dear sorely-missed godfather Sirius Black – the thought of love perhaps wasn’t so foreign a concept as she liked to pretend.

“I’m in love with him,” he said simply and upon hearing a sharp intake of air, he was vividly reminded of the last night’s calamity of talking to Rita Skeeter, thus he elaborated quickly: “I’m in love with Ron. And I want your son out of his life. I don’t care if I can’t ever have him to myself, I’m used to it by now, but Ron and Draco – they’re no good for each other. They hate each other, for Merlin’s sake; they can’t be together, they can’t be!”

“Damn right you are, young man!” growled the master of the house loudly, finally finding his voice. In the face of his son hitting it off with a Weasley –  _a Weasley_! – the old-school aristocrat felt as if the very world around him was crumbling. How could that  _fool_  of a boy have gone and done such a blasphemous idiocy!? What was he –  _mad_ _or hexed_?! There could be no other explanation! To throw away a bright future a carefree wealthy respected (well… under the circumstances) young man could enjoy for the sake of  _anyone,_ let alone  _a man AND a Weasley_ , the world’s greatest abomination in the sense of a family – that was unthinkable for the man of Lucius’s upbringing.

And did he have no sense of family honour?! He was  _married_ , for Merlin’s sake, how could he  _not_  respect that!?  Lucius himself had made damn sure Draco got there after certain rumours of his son’s nightly escapades came to his attention and he became alarmed that they might be deemed truthful in the light of his single status. So he went and made an excellent deal with another proper pureblood family and though Draco never properly thanked him for it, he seemed to be resigned to his destiny of becoming a family man. A family man! With a wife and a child! Family and family’s good name was sacred above anything, Lucius had tried to drill the importance of it into that stubborn boy since he was a wee child, hadn't he?! So how come it had all come to nothing because of Arthur Weasley’s son?!

Arthur Weasley, the bane of Lucius' existence. A pureblood who acted anything but; a dirt-poor man obsessed with Muggle artefacts; a half-mad inventor already at school (just like his equally mad twin sons!) who once upon a time, in spite of his oddness, somehow managed to get the attention of the prettiest witch in the entire school, a pureblood redheaded beauty with curves in all the right places by the name of Molly Prewett. And of course a hormone-crazed and barely adolescent Lucius was among the armies of other young boys, who couldn’t help but day-dream about the lovely Head Girl even though she was older and it was not very likely she would ever give him the time of day.

But being a true Malfoy already back then – self-confident to the point of arrogant – he eventually mustered enough courage to talk to the girl that invaded his dreams, but she merely looked at him with those soft brown eyes and said not unkindly:

“You’re awfully cute, young Malfoy, but why don’t you try a bit more civility, I wonder? All this “I’m better than the rest” talk won’t get you very far in life, you know, and it is certainly not very endearing!”

She had knocked the breath out of him with these words, but she was so pretty up close, his clouded mind had trouble finding the right words to respond.  But then the wiry form of Arthur Weasley sneaked up behind her as the redhead wrapped his arms around her waist – and this was when young Lucius’s feelings _really_ turned to murder. Molly had smiled blissfully at the lanky Prefect with singed off eye-brow and black splotches on his cheeks –undoubtedly from one mad invention gone wrong or another - and she had forgotten entirely about having been involved a conversation with the younger boy as she proceeded to snog her heart-throb stupid. And Lucius had just stood there, feeling small, insignificant and forgotten, until he was angry enough to evaporate Arthur Weasley out of his shoes!

And then the redheaded seventh-year looked at him with amusement in those crystal blue eyes and said to the beautiful girl in his arms in a matter-of-fact voice: “What did the little boy want from my future wife, Molly?”

And that was the first time Lucius Malfoy ever heard blood roar in his ears. He was livid! How  _dare_  he?! He was almost 14, from the oldest, richest pureblood family in England and that good-for-nothing clinically-insane maggot had just called him “a little boy” in front of the girl he fancied! If it wasn’t for that idiot of a Dumbledore that just happened to stroll by, breaking the happy couple apart and accidentally positioning himself between Lucius and his prey – there would have been an Unforgivable cast at Hogwarts that morning and be what it may!

Molly was soon forgotten when she left school and Narcissa Black, a graceful Slytherin with just the right pedigree, grew into her female form, but Lucius never forgot the feeling of acute putrid hatred he felt for Arthur Weasley, who somehow cancelled everything Lucius was brought up to believe in, just by existing. And now his son,  _his_  son of all people, his blasted Mudblood- _married_  son, made his precious Draco publicly humiliate himself. And by a public intimacy, of all things! Draco must have been hexed to have complied, there  _was_  no other explanation, there  _couldn’t_ be! Where did it all go so wrong? He’s given the boy the best upbringing the money could buy, it must have been that blasted school where he picked up those disgusting habits, something like that would never have happened if Narcissa hadn't opposed going to Durmstrang so violently!

Now he urgently had to resolve this mess. This was unacceptable. As much as he found Potter’s admittance of affection for the Weasley boy disgusting in its own right, he couldn’t help but being grateful for the powerful young man for bringing his business directly to him. With his knowledge of the Weasley monster and his own familiarity with Draco’s weaknesses they could contain this disaster much more efficiently. Finding solace in this thought, he finally took conversation into his own hands:

“Now, Mr. Potter, while it is clear we all agree that this abominable liaison cannot continue, would you please care to elaborate what you, on your part, intend to do to end this… embarrassment as soon as possible? I can’t imagine why would you even be here if you didn’t require our cooperation on certain parts of your plan.”

“There are several things I have already done,” Harry explained matter-of-factly. “I’ve informed the officials at the Ministry of your son’s serious offences regarding our work ethics and I’m confident that my conversation with Chief Kingsley will at least get him suspended if not more permanently removed from the office.” He couldn’t help noticing a tiny smirk of satisfaction turning the sides of Lucius’s mouth upwards – the older man would without a doubt be ecstatic to see his son’s attempt at employment come to an end – but Narcissa Malfoy just gave a him a very dark look and pressed her lips closer together as if she was not entirely happy to have her son made miserable. She… could be trouble, Harry decided, but could do nothing about it rather than hope that Lucius’s determination to hate the Weasleys would eventually prevail.

“Unfortunately I didn’t get to speak to...  Ron’s wife yet as she was… unavailable,” Harry frowned a little at those words – as early as he got up, Hermione was already at her office and her wards were closed to everyone – that girl worked way too much ever since Ron had left! “But I’m sure my wife would have informed Ron’s family by now and if I know anything of his parents, this relationship will go down less than favourably.”

Harry couldn’t quite suppress a tiny smile in thought of what Ron was up against when his fiery mother blew her massive temper his direction and for once, his father would gladly join in. He would be lucky if they didn’t decide to package a hex or two into the Howlers he was about to get!

“And moreover – when I was at the office I took the precautionary measure of casting a tracking charm at the entrance, focused on Ron – as I am not familiar with your son’s magical signature enough to cast it to track him - so as soon as he arrives at work we will be able to pinpoint his exact location at any time during the day, should we want to intervene. And knowing where Ron is should be enough, really; I’m rather certain that your son will stay pretty close to him today – I took every precaution to make him feel as if their… relationship was endangered,” Harry smiled a small tense smile and saw it mirrored on the old aristocrat’s face.

“I’m afraid that’s all I can do for now,” he added curtly. “Ron is too important to me to actually go after him with my magic – I suppose I could force him to leave Draco  _that_  way, but this type of magic is extremely dangerous, never without consequences and unfortunately not as permanent as one would like to think. On my part, I can’t and I won’t meddle with memory charms and such rot – but if you consider involvement of magic… unavoidable on _your_  part when it comes to  _your_  son, I won’t stand in your way,” he shrugged, making it perfectly clear that he didn’t give two fucks what they did to Draco, as long as they left Ron alone and this whole farce of a relationship came to a quick and ill-fated end.

“Well, I must say you were wonderfully thorough, Mr. Potter.” It was Narcissa Malfoy who spoke this time and her voice was so perfectly trained to be polite and emotionless he could not tell for the love of god what she was thinking. He had a passing thought that this woman and her mastery of behavioural disguises would be priceless for a spy, but they would never know, would they? –so right now it was irrelevant. “Now as much as it pains me to part our ways I would most kindly like to ask you to grant my husband and I some private time together to discuss this unfortunate situation and come up with a plan of necessary actions, hopefully as effective as yours,” she looked him straight in the eye and made no mystery of her effectively throwing him out.

He nodded and got up, seeing that his presence was no longer necessary, but was immensely surprised when Lucius Malfoy extended his arm in a greeting and shook his hand. Nothing else could testify better in what shock and distress this news had put him and when he spoke, for once, his voice was not unkind.

“I assure you, Mr. Potter, we’re immensely grateful for your invaluable assistance and willingness to cooperate with us on resolving this dreadful matter. Of course, we will keep you duly informed on the course of our actions as we might require further information and involvement from you – I trust we can contact you when the time occurs, yes?”

Harry felt the strong cold hand grip his fingers with such strength there could be no doubt of this man’s remaining power and determination, but paired with a cold look from those haughty grey eyes it felt so much like a vice of an especially vicious snake, that he couldn’t remove his hand fast enough. For the first time he felt a surge of doubt if he was right in trying to make the Malfoys his allies, but it was too late to have those thoughts now and he merely nodded to Madame Malfoy courtly and left as fast as he could. On his way back he was accompanied by the same house-elf that brought him in and a funny thought occurred; one, he was harbouring ever since he first heard the house elf’s name.

“Who was your father, Wheezy?” he asked the tiny creature, dressed in spotless clothes as was the regulations these days. In spite of his kind tone he didn’t get his reply directly – it seemed that his intrusion that would – rules or no rules – undoubtedly get the poor house elf in trouble with his Master, didn’t exactly inspire trust in the poor thing.

“Why is Master Potter asking about poor Wheezy’s old pa?” finally asked the house-elf, sounding insecure and suspicious, as if he wasn’t entirely sure where those questions were headed.

“Oh, I merely think I might have known him… was his name Dobby perhaps?”

The house-elf’s eyes, already as big as saucers, almost popped out of his head as he stared at the famous wizard with awe in his eyes:

“Did Harry Potter, Sir, know Wheezy’s pa? Sir? Did he!? Wheezy’s pa was Dobby, Dobby the Free Elf indeed!” by the end of these words the house-elf was already jumping in excitement, the happiness and pride on his face unmistakeable. He reminded Harry so much of the house-elf he first met as a twelve-year-old that he stopped dead in his path and could barely speak under the acute attack of nostalgia.

“Your dad gave his life for me, Wheezy. For my part I’m honoured and proud to have known him. And it seems that he named you after the person I love best.”

When a huge grin lit up the wrinkled little face of the skinny creature, the raven-haired youth couldn’t help but to mirror it: if the fact that a creature named after a Weasley was part of the Malfoy’s household wasn’t worth a face-splitting smile, than nothing was. Life’s little irony at its best. But when he turned towards the happy little thing, his face was serious:

“Now, Wheezy - I do not wish to turn you against your masters, your father showed me the true meaning of loyalty to the family you serve, but – do keep these words in mind – should you ever consider a change of employment, my family would be most honoured to welcome you. My wife’s mother has wished for nothing but a house-elf in ages and she’s no longer a young woman. I’m afraid with the abundance of grandchildren strolling out and about, she tends to over-work herself and I have no doubt she would most eagerly welcome you into her household.”

“Wheezy is happy where he is, Harry Potter, Sir,” said the house-elf adamantly, but there was no mistake that he prided himself on the offer. “Wheezy is used to his family and who would play with Master Draco’s baby if Wheezy was not around? Master Draco’s baby is best buddies with Wheezy!”

“The Malfoys let you play with their grandson?” Harry asked incredulously. He couldn’t imagine Lucius allowing the house-elf  _near_  the precious child and was not surprised, when Wheezy shook his head violently.

“Not the Master and Missus, Harry Potter, Sir. They don’t know, it’s secret, big secret...” He hushed his voice and looked about him nervously as if he expected the much-feared Master of the house to grab him by the neck anytime. But since there was nothing suspicious to be noticed, he leaned in closer to Harry and whispered in a voice filled with pride: “The young master, Master Draco does. He never stays here anymore, Master Draco. But when he works, he brings baby here. Baby is no longer small, he is 5 years old and Master Draco says he could use some company other than himself and Madame Astoria. Such a lovely child, Harry Potter, Sir, such a lovely child!” The house elf was positively beaming and Harry just knew he had to use the opportunity.

“And is your young Master fond of the child?” he asked matter-of-factly, but could barely finish the words when the enthusiastic nodding almost snapped the house-elf’s head from his neck. “Master Draco loves his little one above anything, Harry Potter, Sir. Little Master Scorpius is the moon and the sun for young Master. And the same goes for the little Master - he would spend every single moment in his Pa’s arms, if he could choose. He almost cries his eyes out every morning Master Draco leaves for work, though he would never do that in front of his Pa. He puts on a brave face for his Pa, he does, a truly brave boy, he is!”

And Harry was enough of a father himself to feel his heart squeeze in his chest at the thought he was about to put a relationship so precious to the test. He tried to smother the thought, told himself to be strong - perhaps it would not come to that at all – but suddenly a sobering sour taste in his mouth reminded him of what he was putting at stake for Ron. Still, he was too far gone now to quit, he couldn’t turn back now, he couldn’t! He’d done his lying, his cheating, his hurting for Ron, he was damned if he wasn’t ready to trample over the life of someone who meant as little to him as Malfoy did! For Ron, he told himself. He hoped eventually the redhead would come to appreciate it.

~

A silence reigned for a few moments after the door had closed behind the visitor as if both occupants of the sun-lit parlour wanted to make sure not a word could be overheard by uncalled for ears.

“That is outrageous, simply outrageous!” finally exploded the master of the Manor, no longer able to contain the wrath festering inside him. “What that insolent boy is thinking is beyond me, but he must be shown his place at once! I will stop at nothing, I tell you, Narcissa,  _at nothing_ , to knock some sense back into him! What on Salazaar’s cursed Earth is going on around that impossibly befuddled head of his, I will never know, but this nonsense must be stopped at once, I tell you,  _at once_!”

“So what do you suggest we do?” asked his wife, uncommonly calm under the circumstances. Anyone who knew anything about Narcissa Malfoy Black would have known that this woman had not yet stopped thinking about the matter and was still turning it around her head to come to a conclusion likely to be singular to her own astute mind.

“Bring him to his knees, if I have to,” coldly cut her husband and his tightly shut fists told her everything she needed to know about his disposition. He was beyond arguing at this point. She would do well to keep her thoughts to herself until she reached a decision.

Because some time during the conversation with the morning visitor Narcissa’s initial shock had faded and some of the things the Potter boy had said made her see things in the entirely different light – and it was not one he might necessarily appreciate. The war had shown her the one truth she needed to know about herself: she would always put her beloved Draco’s well-being above anything. She had always felt she had somehow failed Draco for allowing Lucius to drag him in the middle of the Voldemort disaster and though she did her best to tune down the consequences, she could not help thinking that it was partially her fault that Draco barely smiled, almost never laughed and seemed to be unable to find love.

Narcissa, for her part, loved Lucius fiercely. She would never have allowed things to be taken so far if she wasn’t partially blinded by her trust in her beautiful strong husband. And she absolutely worshipped her son. It was her ultimate dream to see him happy – and yet she hardly ever did. He was satisfied, content, sometimes cheerful – but hardly ever unabashedly happy as she knew he deserved. And it was making her miserable. She longed to see joy and awe in his wondrous silver eyes as she did when he was a child and they presented him with a new top-of-the-line broom that was every young wizard’s dream. Those brilliant silver sparks in his eyes were gone when the war struck with all its might and try as she might – it seemed they were never coming back.

Except when he was playing with his son. The little Scorpious seemed to have a gift to bring the best out of people. He was proud and strong as her beloved Lucius – the child was hardly ever ill and already mastered his tiny broom with the skill that made his grandfather’s heart soar! – he was intelligent, thoughtful and had an air of natural elegance about him just like Narcissa did – and he was absolutely in love with his papa. It was mutual, of course. Draco was completely taken by the boy the moment he was born and would spend every free moment with him. Little Scorpius and his antics were the only things that sometimes made Draco knock his head backwards and positively roar with laughter (and made his grandfather roll his eyes up – “manners, for Merlin’s sake, manners!”) – the child was just good this way.

But there was never anyone else. Draco was polite towards his wife, but frankly, Astoria was so… perfect and so perfectly bland that Narcissa only now remembered that it would be a good thing if someone had a talk with her regarding the matter. Pretty as an ornament, she was trained to fade into the background when her charms weren’t required by society and frankly – Narcissa had no idea what the woman did all day all alone in that remote villa they occupied after Draco absolutely declined to ever come back and live in the Manor.

It was clear, she was not  _the one_  in the same sense Narcissa was the one for Lucius and with so many years gone by and no one ever came – Narcissa was ready to believe that there never would be  _the one_  for Draco, that the war had effectively killed something inside him that would allow him to feel those overwhelming feelings of giving in and giving everything. Until this morning.

With Potter focused on her husband, she took another good long look at the picture in the offending publication – and what she saw there almost knocked the wind out of her. It was  _there_. That look. That look in his eyes, when he turned towards the undisputedly gorgeous man holding his arm and right before he launched himself at him. The stars in his eyes. And the smile on the redhead’s face had told her it was appreciated. And she wasn’t about to let her son pass up on a chance like that. Not on her watch.

Personally, she had nothing against the Weasleys. She had known Arthur and Molly at Hogwarts – she was a very popular, very attractive and unexpectedly bright student, while he was brilliant in his own half-mad way – but Narcissa had never felt any particular like or dislike for the Weasleys. She had merely adopted her husband’s disdainful attitude towards them – but couldn’t really find it in herself to hate them as passionately as her husband seemed to. And if her beloved son had truly fallen for a Weasley, if a Weasley – she really needed to make the effort to remember his name now, Ronald, was it? – Ronald had the capacity of making her son feel love and simply radiate happiness like this, for the whole world to see – then she needed to think things over very carefully and for once, act as she knew she should. Not as the lady of the Malfoy Manor. Not as Madame Malfoy, the wife of Lucius Malfoy. Not as esteemed member of the wizarding jet-set. But as Draco’s mother. She owed him that much. This was her chance to make things right between them.

If this was her son’s only chance at true happiness - love her husband as she might, Narcissa wasn’t about to let Lucius ruin it for him! But she desperately needed more information. Was this man worthy of her son’s love? Did he love him back? Did Draco truly honestly love him at all? No matter what the stupid newspaper and that jealous fool of a Potter had said, Narcissa was only willing to believe what came out of her son’s mouth.  She wanted him to speak the words as she looked him in the eye – and then she could be sure. And she would act accordingly. Potter had come to seek an ally. He had found one. Not for himself, though. For Draco. A lesson was in place for the overconfident Mr. Potter; a hard lesson Dark Lord himself once had to learn, much to his chagrin: even the most powerful wizard never stood a chance in the face of a mother’s love for her child.


	8. Taking care of the Ministry business

“What do you mean, I can’t enter, I bloody well work here, you daft cow!” yelled Draco Malfoy for what felt like the umpteenth time to the crooked-nosed witch at the reception desk of the Ministry of Magic. The middle-aged witch cringed and looked every bit ready to hide behind the desk at the full onslaught of Malfoyian notorious attitude directed her way, but somehow she managed to stand her ground and just swallowed thickly and tried to calm down the awfully temperamental young man, who had been spitting his venom at her ever since him and his new  _partner_  (in every way, if the newspaper got it right, how very scandalous!) were denied access into the Ministry elevator.  
  
As soon as she spotted them, she smelled trouble etched into the fuming face of the infamously haughty Malfoy, but his quiet partner was the true source of her distress. Ron Weasley appeared calm and had yet to say a word, but she had heard of him (who hasn’t!) and she was fully aware how incredibly important he was - a true grey eminence behind the more glittering characters of the wizarding community. He never acted conceited or above anyone else and he might not even have realized it – but things happened when Ron Weasley wanted them to happen. There were rumours about… uh, it was just too juicy to think about at the moment, as one of the top Aurors he was probably good enough to read it straight from her face, but… the Saviour himself and his best mate  _did_  seem to be joined at the hip.  _Uncommonly so_ , if rumours were to be considered. Until recently, that is. And then there was his wife…  
  
Yep, people just didn’t get much more influential in the wizarding world than Ron Weasley. Even as he stood there, totally unassuming and silent while that blond menace raged on, it was his clear blue eyes that made her feel as if she was doing something wrong. That man had the authority, he just didn’t bother to use it yet, for reasons unknown. A certain inert, quite kind of integrity he radiated, made her hair stand on ends and desperately hope for this dreadful situation to come to a swift end.  
  
Therefore she almost cried out in joy when she finally spotted the massive figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt, making his way out of the elevator. As soon as she had spotted the Malfoy beast storming her way, she sent Kingsley an emergency memo, just as she was instructed - perhaps a bit too distressed given the abuse she had to put up with from that Death Eater spawn! - but it felt as if an eon had passed before the Chief of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement found his way into the lobby. And when he did he looked extremely uncomfortable. And  _that_  - was highly unusual.  
  
His overwhelming physical appearance played no small part in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s general ability to deal with the hardest and most awkward of situations the stressful everyday life of a man on a powerful Ministry position threw at him. But today it was especially hard filling his shoes –not only was this particular situation complicated and not entirely clear, it also tackled matters quite personal to certain prominent Ministry employees and for once Kingsley knew he was going to have to tread with utmost delicacy. On a regular day he would be more than willing to entirely dismiss the rumours printed in that blasted rag of a newspaper, but following the early morning visit by the Head Auror himself - he was forced to take a different approach. Which was extremely inconvenient and a bloody mess at best! Nothing was  _ever_  easy when the Malfoys got involved and if you proceeded to add Ron Weasley into the mixture... voilà - you’ve successfully brewed yourself a broth from hell.  
  
But there was nothing for it now – he was going to have to bite into this sour apple, since both young men, one fuming and the other alarmingly calm, worked for his department and he was responsible for resolving the awkward situation.  
  
“Gentlemen.... and a lady – everybody calm down and you two -“ he pointed at the blond and the ginger head  “- follow me, if you please!” he proclaimed with his deep voice, resonating authority and aimed at delivering him full control over the situation - but apparently the young Malfoy was rather deaf to those particular undertones:  
  
“Well, we can’t, can we?! The bloody elevator won’t let us pass, as I’ve been trying to convey to this... sub-standard  _vegetable_  you employ as a receptionist!” barked Malfoy junior, completely ignoring the older man’s superior position and Kingsley Shacklebolt could already feel an onslaught of a massive headache coming. Great... and it wasn’t even 9 in the bloody morning...  
  
“Calm down, Mr. Malfoy or I will have you removed from the premises entirely! Consider yourself warned - I had to sack two Ministry employees this morning and suspend three more and you would do well to consider minding your tongue around me, young man!” boomed Kingsley, determined not to have his authority challenged, Malfoy or not! “Now - I would appreciate it if you stopped insulting valuable Ministry employees – “ they must have changed at least 6 receptionists since Draco Malfoy clearly made it a personal challenge to land them all at the psychiatric ward of St. Mungo’s and the position was proving increasingly more difficult to fill – “and follow me instead. You will be allowed access once you’re accompanied by me.”  
  
Draco Malfoy once more opened his pretty mouth to object loudly, but unexpectedly Ron Weasley took his hand and squeezed it, shaking his head in the most imperceptible manner. And as by a miracle the haughty blond closed his mouth abruptly and just mumbled a quiet consent instead: “If we must...”  
  
With tears of indignation still streaming down her face, the receptionist collapsed into her chair, feeling downright drained in spite of the early hour and dead set on quitting as soon as her shift was over. The miserable pay just wasn’t worth it... but watching two young men walking through the rapidly filling Ministry lobby, holding hands and leaving a trail of gawping faces behind, with one of the two men being  _“her_ ” husband as a bonus... well, perhaps that was worth her the trouble after all... she might just be willing to wait this day out, it seemed as if it was going to be a terribly exciting one!  
  
As soon as the elevator landed at the second floor of the Ministry, home to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Chief Kingsley made the effort to walk in front of both young men, still holding hands, his impressive figure effectively bullying all the potential gossipers into their offices at alarming speed, but as soon as the door of his office closed behind them and was properly shielded with privacy and sound-proof charms, he collapsed behind his desk, leaned his massive body onto his fists and boomed at them with all his might:  
  
“What the hell were you two thinking?!” With a small relief he noticed that at some point between walking through the hallway and entering his office the two young men let go of each other’s hands; Malfoy now standing with his arms crossed at his chest, his jaw set tightly as a true image of defiance, while Weasley... Weasley just stood there with his hands stuck in his pockets, looking so relaxed he might as well be bored, save for his eyes, as blue and intense as Kingsley had ever seen them. And somehow that had set him on alert and curbed his anger. Carefully, he told himself, carefully, Kingsley. It would be a great shame if the Ministry lost itself the services of Ron Weasley and his associates because he could not control his temper.  
  
“What happened, would at least someone care to explain that?!” he looked at them tiredly and shook his head briefly when he saw Draco Malfoy open his mouth. He was truly not in the mood for another dose of Malfoyian attitude. “With all due respect, Mr. Malfoy, I’d prefer if Mr. Weasley does it. I hope to make more sense of his words, yours might be a tad too... clouded by anger.”  
  
Draco Malfoy had opened his mouth once more, then looked at Ron and closed it again, relaxing his shoulders and shrugging matter-of-factly:  
  
“Whatever. It’s not like you were going to pay any attention to the words of the Death Eater offspring anyway!” he threw another poisonous look in his direction and Kingsley had a good mind of hexing that vicious tongue of his silent once and for good! Honestly, if that young man wasn’t a right prodigy among the healers, much too good for their miserable budget – which he was sadly well aware of – he would have kicked him out as soon as their third receptionist left in tears because of him. He really liked that girl, while Malfoy… But when he chanced a look at Ron Weasley, he noticed that the young man was smiling, as if Malfoy’s words amused him to no end and somehow that irritated him even further.  
  
“Well, what was it?!” he barked. “What the hell were you two up to that I have to wake up to the front page news of you two allegedly fraternizing – well, at least this part seems to be true – and a fuming Potter storming into my office  – and I assure you, that’s a disturbing sight! -hissing something about bribery and possible use of illegal magic, demanding to immediately have Mr. Malfoy here sacked, while, curiously, no harm should befall Mr. Weasley, who hardly looks like the innocent victim from where I sit!?”  
  
“We’re in love,” cut Ron Weasley through his words and the blunt truth in them wasn’t the only thing that took Kingsley Shaklebolt’s breath away at that moment. The range of emotions displayed on Draco Malfoy’s face was priceless: shock, awe and strange softness Chief Kingsley had never  _ever_  seen in those hard grey eyes before, bringing out a wondrous silver glow – and on top of it all, a beautiful brilliant smile making him absolutely radiate with happiness. For a moment there Draco Malfoy was a changed man when he looked into Ron Weasley’s eyes and Chief Kingsley somehow found it a bit easier to wrap his brain around the idea of those two being an item.  
  
Ron gave a small smile in the direction of his lover and continued to explain in a matter-of-fact voice:  
  
“I don’t know what wild hallucinations has Rita Skeeter come up with now, but I assume they must have something to do with the dinner Draco and I shared yesterday and which ended... rather spectacularly, if I say so myself,” he added with a familiar sheepish grin and Kingsley was vividly reminded of a self-conscious boy he first met as one of the many Arthur Weasley’s sons. His cheeks went a rabidly pink and it was clear he was not so comfortable with explaining his personal affairs publically as he would have the world believe, but he seemed to be resigned that he would have to do so eventually, so he proceeded with typical Weasley stubbornness.  
  
“But if you care to hear the truth that’s what it is, in a nutshell: Draco here, erm... kind of fell for me -and quite a while ago as well, it seems - but as you know, I’m rather... unobservant when it comes to all that emotional mumbo-jumbo and I kind of, uhm... failed to register his attempts to catch my attention... well, I  _did_  catch them, of course I did, I just never recognised them for the right sort... for what they were supposed to be – and they were rather clumsy, you must admit that!” he pouted at the blond, sporting a familiar smirk in the corner of his mouth.  
  
“Weasley... Ron, love, I care for you deeply, but you’re as oblivious as a doormat and legally blind when it comes to spotting a fellow  _murdering_  himself to get your attention,” offered the Slytherin with a raised eyebrow, clearly amusing himself to no end. “I will have it on the record that I practically had to jump him, Chief, to get him to admit that...”  
  
“Yes, well, that’s quite enough Mr. Malfoy, I’d rather not have the  _unnecessary_  details if I can help it. I am, however, interested in how  _does_  one get from what seems to be a rather personal matter of affection to the fully-blown story of bribery and illegal magic? – and that’s  _after_  we leave the small matter of fraternization aside!” mumbled Kingsley, rather desperate to mask his discomfort at apparent lack of shame and every sense of appropriate by that blasted Malfoy kid!  
  
“Well, Draco here might have gotten a bit... impatient with me ignoring his existence, so he took matters into his own hands when the opportunity arose. As you know, I’ve filed for transfer recently and he saw his chance of getting closer to me and took it,” shrugged Ron, not willing to share more than he was forced to – but Kingsley would have none of it.  
  
“Unfortunately for you both, Mr. Potter was quite specific in his accusations: according to him, Mr. Malfoy here rather rashly incriminated himself by admitting that he had used bribery to be paired with you...”  
  
“I don’t see what my crime is,” interrupted Draco coolly. “I offered and he – I’m sure we all know who we’re talking about – accepted. I didn’t ask for anything illegal, perhaps only a bit... irregular, and it was not I, who took the bribe. I’m sure you yourself have, at one point or another, oiled someone to agree to your requests with a well placed expensive dinner or such, after all, that’s recognised as good political tactics and widely accepted. So I believe what I did is hardly grounds for suspense. Unless, of course, Holy Potter wants it, then we’re all just wasting our time here, because it’s already done,” he said in a sharp angry voice but somehow it had come out as bitter.  
  
“I assure you, Mr. Malfoy, that as important as Mr. Potter is, he doesn’t run this department, I do, and it is my primary objective to keep its reputation and the reputation of its employees unblemished,” said Kingsley firmly, though not unkindly. Given the distressed look of the young Malfoy he suspected there might be more to the story and he wondered if he would ever find out - and if he really wanted to.  
  
 “Frankly, I still cannot make heads or tails of this story, try as I may. As far as I understand, you, Mr. Malfoy applied certain... innovative and persuasive methods to secure your position next to Mr. Weasley here, which, as you so cleverly pointed out, is not exactly criminal, though highly irregular and downright unsanitary. So far Mr. Potter hasn’t presented any evidence that you’ve been fraternizing at work – “ sudden deep blush that crept over Ron Weasley’s face told him that Potter was merely rather unfortunate in his search for the evidence as opposed to there being none – nope, he definitely didn’t want to know more! – “...and your behaviour in this place,  _as far as I know_ , has been nothing short of exemplary - should we choose to ignore the little morning outburst of Mr. Malfoy here!” he looked at the blond pointedly, but that brat honestly had no shame, he merely shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something along the lines of “She’s incompetent. And ugly as a bat’s bottom...”  
  
“I will give you that – the evidence we have so far works in your favour, as there hardly is any. Can someone, then, please explain, how does illegal use of magic come into play here? Mr. Potter seemed quite confident that Mr. Weasley here would not have anything to do with you, Mr. Malfoy… romantically, in lack of a better word…  of his own accord and that he must have been coerced in some way to… participate.”  
  
Kingsley, at this point, was silently cursing Harry Potter for having pushed him in such a position, where he had to discuss matters so personal to his staff. It was none of his business, really! Those two were clearly ready to take their affairs out of the Ministry premises – though the country’s most prominent restaurant perhaps wasn’t the wisest choice if they planned on staying discreet – and if Potter didn’t get involved – at this point there was little doubt in Kingsley’s mind who was the mysterious undisclosed Skeeter’s source from the Ministry – the whole thing might have either been ignored or dealt with internally. But as it was…  
  
“Harry and I have been lovers since we were 16,” a quiet voice of Ron Weasley cut through his thoughts, but he might as well be screaming for the havoc his words wreaked. A… what?! Now, for one –  _this_  was definitely too much information and number two…  _a what_?!?! Kingsley found himself staring dumbly at the tall redheaded man, blushing like a virgin, but staring at him defiantly, who just informed him that he’s been having intimate relationship with not one, but two of the most prominent figures of the wizarding world.  
  
Of course everyone knew that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were practically one and the same thing, you didn’t plan anything for one without making room for the other, but  _this_ … well, now when he came to think of it, it sort of explained a lot of the little things that his mind collected over the years with his peripheral vision. So…  
  
“Draco here found out and found a way of informing my wife,” Ron Weasley continued flatly as if he was making a report for one of the cases. “Hermione and I have been living separately since. We were planning on keeping the arrangement private until the kids were old enough to go to Hogwarts. My sister was… duly informed and you can imagine what a mess it all was. She cornered Harry and threatened to take the kids away from him if he didn’t let me go and you know Harry – there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to keep the kids, he loves those three little scoundrels beyond anything.  
  
I very quickly made it clear to my wife that she wasn’t in a position to push me into making the same decision and even if she tried, I was willing to fight her tooth and nail. I hardly have anything to lose, while she… well, anyway, she was understanding after that. Things probably would have worked themselves out if Harry and I stopped… acting on our mutual attraction. But, erm… this was not the case. Not only did we continue to work together, it’s like… we were always more than just best friends, I guess…. Harry was always everything I wanted to be and I was… I don’t know what I was or what I still am to him, I never thought much about it. I must feel like… home to him, someone he can be himself with, I suppose,” Ron shrugged, way out of his comfort zone and not entirely sure he was making any sense at all.  
  
“Anyway,” he hurried, fully aware of the two set of eyes focused on him, both of them equally unreadable. “I slowly had enough of it. Harry was forced to pretend there was nothing more going on between us and I hated every minute of it. So at one point I realized I needed to put some space between us, see where I wanted to go and if I could go that way without Harry and perhaps, to make Harry see what he was missing out on. I don’t really know what I wanted, I was just sick of all the lies and the pretence and of hiding in the dark, as if what we had was some dirty little secret. And Harry did nothing to change things so I asked for transfer. And he freaked out, but I just couldn’t…. I couldn’t let things go back to the way they were. I was miserable. And it turns out that my transfer was the window of opportunity Draco here was waiting for… quite eagerly, it seems.”  
  
He looked at his lover with a small cheeky smile in the corner of his mouth and Draco couldn’t let it pass by. He smiled brilliantly and spoke quietly: “Oh, yes…  _Quite eagerly_ , Weasley. Admittedly, you were a bit much for me. I didn’t plan it this way either, for things to roll with such a speed, but I… was swept of my feet once I was within the range… of your charm… at last, I suppose.” Their eyes stayed glued on each other for a long moment, making Kingsley increasingly uncomfortable, because it looked so… intimate, they might as well be… well, those were certainly not appropriate thoughts! But luckily Draco Malfoy broke his train of thoughts by tearing his eyes away from the intense blue orbs of Ron Weasley and swallowed thickly.  
  
“Merlin, man…” he murmured barely audibly to himself and shook his head as if he wanted to get rid of a particularly persistent spell. “You really  _are_  my poison… Anyway - ” he proceeded louder and with more typical Malfoyian assertiveness, “ - to make a long story short: I professed my undying love for Weasley here and I’m afraid I’ve done it within the first hour on the job together and in admittedly quite an idiotic way. I supposed one could say my self-restraint had reached its limits and I needed to have my feelings known to Ron or I would probably end up at St. Mungo’s – I was, after all, rather obsessed with him for a better part of my life and I had clearly over-estimated my ability of spending over half a day in his close proximity and say nothing and act indifferent. I fucking  _exploded_  into him the first time he touched me,” Draco confessed with a huge shameless smile and quickly added when he saw Chief Kingsley roll up his eyes: “Pardon the language, of course.”  
  
When the blond saw there was no further repercussions coming, he continued as if he was chatting merrily by the cup of tea: “I believe I was all in all rather pathetic, but Ron was very gracious about it and when I – rather hopelessly, I confess – asked him to have dinner with me to at least try and make a better impression and perhaps persuade him that my feelings for him were no passing matter – he completely made my day, or perhaps my life, by accepting. And this is where Potter comes in. I – again rather foolishly – made him aware of my advances to Ron and of course, the holy Saviour couldn’t stand the thought of someone else having something that belonged to him, though he kept on acting as if he didn’t want it.”  
  
Draco’s voice at this point had turned bitter and brittle and his eyes got hard as diamonds:  
  
“He had the audacity to follow us there, to the restaurant, preaching Ron about what a back-stabbing self-centred poison of a person I was – when  _he_ , himself was hurting him every bloody day in ways I could never imagine. He asked Ron to let me go and come back to him –  _with these words_ , the bastard! Frankly, to this moment I don’t know how it was, that I ended up with Ron and he didn’t because when I heard him speak those words I was certain it was all over. Everybody knew that Ron Weasley never denied Harry Potter anything, not a thing. And yet…”  
  
He looked a Ron with a question in his eyes and Ron just smiled the smallest and sexiest of smiles, radiating directly from his lovely eyes.  
  
“I followed my heart,” he said simply and the smile those words evoked on Draco Malfoy’s face could have melted the sword from the executioner’s hands, a bit like Kingsley felt, really. The young Malfoy positively glowed with happiness and adoration and Shacklebolt Kingsley could suddenly imagine very vividly how infuriated Potter must have felt if he ever saw such a look on Malfoy’s pretty face, directed at his best mate and – oh, my! - his lover. It was an unbeatable smile; a smile of someone who was completely mesmerised, a smile of a man who loved deeply and with no reservations and Kinsgsley could see how it was perfectly able to melt what remaining doubts Weasley could have had about Malfoy’s intention – the young man clearly adored him.  
  
But so did Potter, it would seem, if he was willing to fight for him so fiercely he paid no attention at all to what means he was using. Setting off Rita Skeeter on them was hardly his style, but for once Harry Potter seamed willing to ignore any fair play to get what he wanted, who he wanted. Potter was a formidable opponent and Kingsley almost felt sorry for the young man who was yet again getting lost in Ron Weasley’s – admittedly very pretty – eyes to the point of being rendered completely oblivious to his surroundings. Kingsley believed there were some harsh life lessons in stock for the haughty blond, not very long from now, but Kingsley Shacklebolt decided he wasn’t going to be the first one to give it to him. To hell with Potter, he, Kingsley, was in charge of this department and if Potter believed there was any foul play taking place – then he better do the work and prove it!  
  
He realized his silence must have sounded menacing to them, but he wasn’t about to let them off the hook quite that easy – after all, they’ve caused him a considerable amount of trouble, making him fire some people and having to deal with Skeeter’s crazy memos asking for a comment all morning. Not to mention Potter. Potter was an entirely different level of trouble, in a class of his own!  
  
“Mr. Weasley, you disappoint me,” he said slowly, after he had given them a fair share of scolding silence. He saw the colour drain from Ron Weasley’s face and willingly ignored the seething look on the suddenly livid face of Draco Malfoy. The blond man positively bared his teeth and Kingsley was strangely pleased that he was clearly willing to protect what was his. “You must think me an awfully unattractive individual as it becomes clear that I’m probably  _the only_  Ministry employee that hasn’t proven worthy to have been targeted by your… charms,” he raised an eyebrow, amusing himself to no end at the look of total confusion on both young men’s faces. “But, given enough time, you would have probably worked your way through to me as well, so I suppose I will have to swallow my disappointment for once and tell you to get the hell out of my office and take a beaming Mr. Malfoy here with you, before his head splits in two in a rather unattractive grin he’s sporting!”  
  
“So we’re not…” Ron managed through his barely suppressed wide smile and Kingsley boomed at him:  
  
“Of course you’re not suspended, you two idiots, at least not for now, but I’m warning you – there  _will_  be an investigation, Potter will have it no other way! I assume Mr. Malfoy here would be willing to testify under Veritaserum that no illegal magic was used, yes?” When those words were followed by a series of enthusiastic nods by the blond, Chief Kingsley clapped his hands on his knees and got up from behind his desk.  
  
“Then I suppose we’re done – for today, but I suspect we’ll see each other soon in less pleasant circumstances. So if there’s something you still want to say, gentlemen, please go and say it to someone else, because there’s only so much honesty I can deal with. And be warned,” he spoke in a serious voice with a cringing brow: “If I ever catch you two holding hands again in my department, I will have you both hung by the offending extremities from the top of Gringotts and have school children bomb you with garbage! Out with you two, out, I was not kidding! I have crazy Skeeter to deal with and when Potter returns…  _sweet Merlin_  help me, I better go and purchase some of those fluffy pink earmuffs and brew myself some Draught of Living Death, so I can make it through his antics without jumping out of my blasted skin! Bloody kids…” he mumbled after Ron Weasley unexpectedly hugged him like a 3-year-old and Draco Malfoy just beamed at them as if he was slightly derailed.  
  
“Thank you, Sir,” said the redhead quietly when he finally let go of him and for once Shacklebolt Kingsley didn’t really know which way to look – he was hardly ever so embarrassed and touched in his life and – boy, there really  _was_ something about that blasted Weasley, that people kept falling over each other to get to him, wasn’t there?  
  
“Sir, one last question,” asked Weasley when he was already holding the door-knob and when Kingsley urged him with a raised eyebrow to proceed, he asked in a changed, serious voice:  
  
“Is my wife in?”  
  
Hermione Granger Weasley. He almost completely forgot about her. How could he? Well, it was all such a bloody mess, wasn’t it and – well, he had no excuse, really.  
  
“I believe she is,” Kingsley replied quietly. “She’s been in since very early in the morning, I’ve been told that she’s barricaded herself in her office and she won’t receive any visitors.”  
  
“Well, she has to come out some time,” said Ron uncommonly adamant and Shacklebolt Kingsley realized he never fully understood the dynamics of  _that_  particular marriage. “And when she does, would you please let her know, that I’d very much like to talk to her. As soon as she can. And if you could please have me informed when she’s willing to see me immediately, I’d appreciate it. I’ll be around and about for the rest of the day - Merlin knows I have enough paperwork to sort out! - and I’m sure she can spare me a few moments.”  
  
It had come out unexpectedly bitter and Draco Malfoy’s hand twitched to touch his lover’s soothingly – and barely managed to withstand from it in the light of Chief Kingsley’s warning about on-the-premises fraternizing. And suddenly Shacklebolt Kinsgsley felt overflown with a feeling of pity for the young man standing in front of him, seemingly so calm and composed. It must have taken a set of brass balls to be Ron Weasley right now, with nothing short of the whole world against him and his partner of choice, friends and enemies alike, and still demand to face the opponents one by one, head-on.  
  
“How are you even sure she’d be willing to see you?” he asked as softly as he could.  
  
“Oh, I’m sure she will,” said Ron Weasley calmly and as self-assuredly as before. “It’s her life on the line as well as mine. And my wife was always top class at crisis management. Besides – I could use an ally right about now and if anyone, my Hermione could deliver, I know she can.”  
  
The smile that spread through Ron’s face at these words was so warm and so unexpected that it shocked both men out of their skin, though for different reasons. Draco Malfoy looked utterly confused, while Chief Kingsley just couldn’t wrap his mind around the thought what a curious marriage this was indeed. But it was not for him to know and he was certainly privy to enough private dealings this morning that he could easily do without this one.  
  
“I will inform the Minister of your request,” he said quietly and Ron Weasley merely nodded in quiet gratitude before the door closed behind them.  
  
And Chief Kingsley just stared after them, shaking head at his own stupidity. Ronald here was the spitting image of his father, the way he remembered Arthur from Hogwarts. He also  _couldn’t_  have himself expelled for the love of god - and not for the lack of trying. Dumbledore just found one way or another to forgive him for his many transgressions, ranging from scaring the teachers to the point of hexing him to the fully blown attempts of almost bringing the school down with his explosive experiments – whatever it was, it never made it to Arthur Weasley’s school record as if Dumbledore somehow knew how pivotal Arthur Weasley and the family he was about to have would prove in the fight against evil lurking under the surface.  
  
And Fabian and Gideon Prewett, Molly’s brothers, were no better. Right menaces those two, if his memory served him right. He sighed deeply – that’s what you got if you mixed the purebloods for long enough – a bucket of trouble. But this particular offspring had the charisma of all of his infamous relatives combined about him. Shacklebolt Kingsley has never come across a person he was more eager to forgive so quickly and so much.

~

As soon as they were safe distance from the Chief Kingsley’s office, Draco Malfoy stopped and turned towards his lover. He put his hands on his shoulders and spoke seriously:  
  
“Weasley, I apologize for ever calling you daft. This was one brilliant strategy. Being honest with Kingsley… You knocked the bloody air out of  _me_  with it and the man was just flabbergasted… almost as much as he was embarrassed! I never would have believed something like this would have worked in our favour, but… you’re just good in everything you do, aren’t you?”  
  
“Yeah, that’s me, Jack of all trades,” smiled Ron and blushed furiously. He bit his lip in the world sexiest manner and looked his lover straight in the eye: “Besides - I only learn from the best,” he murmured quietly, glanced around quickly and chanced a small peck on his cheek. “This is how you won me over and I figured Kingsley would appreciate some clear wine in his cup for once. Harry made it into this giant mess for him, you have no idea… and for us as well,” he looked at him, this time dead serious. “I know Potter, he won’t stop until this goes the way he wants it to go. If he wants you fired…”  
  
“He won’t be able to fire me,” said Draco calmly and when he saw Ron look at him warily he elaborated: “He won’t be able to fire me, because I’m going to quit.”  
  
“You won’t… you can’t!” Ron stared at him with alarm clearly etched into the blue of his eyes. “Where will you go? What will you do? I mean, I know you come from money and can’t be bothered to think about galleons and knuts, but…”  
  
“I would have resigned today, but I didn’t want to give Potter the satisfaction of thinking he can get rid of me on a whim,” interrupted Draco. “I wanted to let him know he can’t have me fired just because he asked for it and you helped greatly with that. And by admitting that you and Potter had it going on for years, you probably also effectively killed any chances to ever be paired with him as well – and I could hardly ask for more. But I wouldn’t be able to do this job for much longer either, not paired with you, anyway. I can hardly keep my bloody hands off you as it is and seeing you in action… Besides, I’d probably have a fucking heart-attack if something was to happen to you in front of my very eyes and the very thought that I might not be able to help…  I can’t take it, Ron, I seriously can’t. I knew it before I entered the Ministry premises today that I was going to resign, I just didn’t want to do it on Potter’s terms. Besides – I only took this job to be close to you,” he shrugged. “I can’t really stand the Ministry administration with its countless ugly heads and the idea of a superior over me was always barely bearable. No, I believe I might be happier working on my own. I’ve made some valuable connections working for the Ministry and I’ve already taken certain steps towards that goal, but so far… I couldn’t bring myself to leave you behind,” admitted Draco and was awarded by a brilliant warm smile and a full once-over, followed by a soft hot breath near his ear:  
  
“You’re just buttering me up for later, aren’t you?”  
  
“Oh, god, yesss,” blurted Draco, quite willing to leave this whole bloody mess behind and return to much more pleasant matters in the privacy of his lover’s home. “Could we…?”  
  
“No, we can’t,” said Ron firmly. “I came here to settle certain matters and that’s what I’m going to do. It was bad enough to have Hermione find out about us from the Prophet – though I hardly had a choice in that – but I don’t intent to leave her without explanation and with matters as unresolved as they are between us. I owe that woman too much.”  
  
“I don’t know how you hope to find any understanding with her after… You know, first Harry and now me…” The blond cut off mid-sentence, unwilling to use the word “cheating” which would imply that Ron did something wrong. And how could this thing between them  _ever_  be wrong?! They were a perfect fit, a match made in Heaven, an incredible force of nature when they were together, this was not cheating, this could never be wrong, what was wrong was that blasted marriage of his!  
  
And as if the redhead read his thoughts, he smiled the tiniest sad smile and said quietly: “Hermione was always a better friend than she was a wife. I never should have asked her to marry me and she never should have accepted. We complement each other perfectly as friends, but as a married couple… we were a disaster. I suppose it was alright in the first months of our marriage, before the children started coming. We were all drunk from the feeling of freedom from Voldemort’s terror and quite taken with each other. She challenged me and I drove her crazy. Quite an explosive combination, as I’m sure you know, but a surprisingly effective one. Of course, it only worked wonders for our passion but it could hardly help us holding a marriage together. After the kids… she’s terribly ambitious, my Hermione, she was always afraid of falling behind and when we decided that two kids were what it was going to be for us, she threw herself into her work with double efforts – and that’s saying something for a woman that hardly ever slept more than 5 hours!  
  
And when her efforts were recognised and she was offered the position of the Minister at such a young age – well, I suppose I could hardly blame her for accepting, god knows I had my fits of ambitious dreams - but it all went down the drain from there. It turns out Harry couldn’t wait to get his hold back on me once he figured out that the family he’d made for himself and which he had so desperately wanted, wasn’t enough after all. Hermione started spending more and more time in the office, while Harry and I got more and more wrapped around each other. I suppose that was the point when you found out about us. I clearly remember there was a period right before it all went to the dogs, when Harry wouldn’t keep his bloody hands of me. I don’t know if it was his new kink or something, but he kept on pouncing at me at the most inappropriate of places and the most awkward of times. And I didn’t say “no” to him, I could never say “no” to him, no matter how empty and used up it always made me feel after he left me to go back to my sister,” he said bitterly and Draco felt fingers itch for a wand at the murderous thought of someone hurting his lover so deeply.  
  
“But the funny thing is - with Harry… it never really felt like cheating on Hermione, you know? I always kind of thought she must have known and she willingly ignored it, because it was “Harry and I” before it was Harry and I and herself. We were already a given, when she sort of merged with us and if nothing else, the bloody Second Task should have given her the clue!” Ron couldn’t help smiling softly, when he remembered those wonderful innocent days, when he was flooded with a dreadful mixture of heady pride and incredible embarrassment that  _he_  was the one thing that Harry would miss the most. No one gave him more hell over that than the infernal blond by his side – the endless catcalls when they walked by, a thousand lewd remarks, a million crass insinuations - but at least now he understood his motives better and perhaps he could finally forgive him – or at least make him pay… now, there was a thought! He looked at him, all big grey eyes drinking his every word, the impeccable stylish attire hiding that hot perfect body, all his to have, and he felt a sudden jolt of pride, desire and belonging all mixed into one.  
  
“But with you… it’s different,” he continued softly, capturing his eyes with his blue orbs and keeping them captive, just the way he knew he loved it. “With you it feels right, it feels as if it should have felt with her from the beginning and that’s why it feels like I’m doing wrong by her… So I need to speak with her, I need to explain and I need to let her go,” said Ron adamantly. “She is still my wife, if only on paper and she was my friend before she was my wife. I’m willing to let my wife go, but I want my friend Hermione back. And you are going to help.”  
  
“Me?” Draco Malfoy suddenly straightened himself up and frowned. “How can I possibly…?”  
  
“You are going to apologize,” said Ron firmly, staring at the blond intently and he wasn’t disappointed.  
  
“Like hell I am, Weasley!” said Draco Malfoy heatedly, his anger flaring unexpectedly with an old hatred for the woman he had every reason to be jealous of for his entire life. But Ron just gave a small smile. Good. He loved them like that. He loved taming them. He was Charlie Weasley’s brother after all and if he could handle the dragons well enough to do his bidding… On the other hand, Charlie might have had it easy with the dragons, a seething Malfoy was certainly something that required a considerable higher level of taming expertise. He was literally sputtering in acid anger, looking so much alike one Molly Weasley in his wrath that it almost made Ron smile. Once more the livid blond was not minding his words, not in the least:  
  
“If you think I’m going to crawl in front of that Mudblood you call your wife, so you can play best friends again, you’ve got another thing coming you  obnoxious twat! I’ve certainly done nothing I regret and if you feel the need to apologize, do so, but for Merlin's sake,  _please_ , have the decency to exclude me from your imbecile plans to win her good grace back! Minister or not, I’m not going to act as if I’ve done something wrong, when I clearly haven’t. And if you think what we have is wrong…”  
  
“Shut up,” said Ron roughly and kissed him. Draco heard a gasp of a passing by witch and it was the last thing he heard for a while because the angry roaring of blood in his ears suddenly crashed down his entire body and transformed into a livid acute need for the redheaded beast, for his smart hands all over his skin, for that hot body pinning him down and he almost melted into the man, suddenly holding him firmly with his big hands closed at the small of his back. “God, I love your temper,” he heard him murmur, but Draco felt as if there was none of it left, it had all melted and burst like a stormy river of red hot passion down his veins.  
  
“Fuck…” he managed, just a long needy moan. “Ron… fuck…” And Ron knew he had him. Without bothering to break the kissing properly he simply extended his wand arm towards the flabbergasted spectator and said in a dark warning voice: “One word....”  
  
 “No... no, of course not,” the witch squealed and the redhead, without ever looking at her, waved her away as if it was better for her own sake that she was never here: “Good... Go now!”  
  
The witch was gone so fast as if Fiendfyre burnt behind her heals and the rest of Draco’s remaining sanity went with her, when Ron’s hands cupped his face and the crazy Gryffindor began kissing him in earnest.  
  
“That’s what I think about what we have... am I coming through to you loud and clear... or do you need more persuasion?... Because Kingsley might have been specific on that “no holding hands” rule.... god, you taste every bit like Heaven.... but I don’t remember him including kissing.... or worse on that “not to do” list of his... “  
  
“ _Fuckfuckfuckfuck_ , Ron... can we go, can we please go...” The contrast between that blasted soft mouth with a silken playful tongue and the commanding deep voice that knew how to get what it wanted proved most undoing to one Draco Malfoy. He could feel his insides liquefy and all the blood pooling at this one part on his body he was completely unable to control. He was begging and he knew it. And he didn’t care.  
  
“I said “no”... not until we do what we’re here to do,” managed the redhead still quite firmly though not quite as forcefully as before, but the content of what he was saying had little effect on the needy blond who merely whimpered louder and pressed against him in a hopeless attempt to show him just how hard he was making him.  
  
But Ron wasn’t having it. He was used to this after all, Harry had sometimes been equally needy and reckless and if it wasn’t for Ron who somehow managed to keep his head about they would have been found out years ago.  
  
“We will leave as soon as we’re done here... but I need your cooperation... do I have it?”  
  
“Yesss... whatever... goddammit, Ron, yes.... anything,” the blond blurted out only half aware of what he agreed to. What was a little apology after all, compared to everything he stood to lose if this... oh, god whatever this was, he couldn’t think… if this ever became a thing of the past… he’d never forgive his fucking Malfoyian arrogance… oh, god, the crazy redhead was going to make him come in the Ministry hallway…  
  
“Good…” whispered Ron and knocked him with his back up the wall, just to hear him moan his name again, he couldn’t get enough of it. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear I will… Just go with me this once… Goddammit, Draco… what the fuck are you made of, no one should taste this good…. Oh, bloody hell, we need to tune this down, man… you might not need a job, but I do… What was I thinking, starting this… knowing how bloody addictive you are… make me stop, you gorgeous bastard, or I’ll fucking go down on you right here and now…”  
  
But the blond showed no sign of even  _attempting_  to stop him. He closed his eyes instead and began rubbing his hardness against Ron’s thigh, so conveniently positioned between his legs, his soft mouth whispering obscenities and producing world’s most undoing sounds. And watching him rock his hips so mindlessly against him, completely oblivious to the rest of the world, to where they were, to who might run into them, Ron lost it a little. This sort of recklessness was his poison.  
  
“Fuck…” he managed in a strained voice and with the last of his clarity picked him up like a rag doll, dragged him three doors down the corridor and pushed him into the very office he used to share with Harry. The wards were still set to let him in and anyone in his company and the office, luxurious by the Ministry standards, was empty now, as he knew it was going to be - the raven-haired youth would rarely be in this time of the morning and definitely not today. He barely managed to ward the door with privacy charms before he knocked the blond on top of the large desk, clearing it as he went without any reservations, not giving a fuck what he broke and where anything landed.  
  
“I’m gonna fuck you right here, on Potter’s desk,” he told him in a low menacing voice. “See how you like that…” And when the big silver eyes stared right at him in raw need, the soft mouth produced a desperate whimper  _“oh, god, yes, Ron, please…”_  and Draco’s hands moved in with desperate speed to free himself, to free them both from the confines of their robes, he found out he needed no more incentive. When the blond’s smart fingers first rubbed up the length of his shaft he couldn’t stop himself from yelping, cursing and seeking out his long sensitive neck, so very vulnerable, so very tempting to his hungry needy mouth.  
  
“Oh, so you do like it… I knew you would… Oh, yeah… just like that… God, Draco… the things you make me do… I’m gonna make you come all over Potter’s desk… his things… his fucking… important… papers…  and there’s not a damn thing he can do about that… and neither can you… cause you drove me too far… it’s all your fucking fault… you’re making me do this… break every rule… risk everything… make me forget myself… so fucking completely… you’re driving me insane you fucking addictive motherfucker and now I’m gonna make you pay…”  
  
And it was all Draco needed. He almost lost it in a hallway already, but now… to be here… to be doing it  _right here_ , where they must have done it countless times and now Ron was sharing it with him, right under damn Potter’s nose, fucking _violating_  the place, not caring if they got caught, not caring about consequences, about the last time he’s done it here with someone else… cause only  _now_  mattered, only Draco could make him forget himself so badly; it was him, Draco, who was worth to the redheaded devil so damn much he was willing to put everything on the line just to teach him a lesson – and that completely undid the blond.  
  
“You fucking animal…” he half moaned half whimpered. “You better make good on your word and do it  _now_ , you crazy redheaded motherfucker, cause I don’t know how much longer I can take… I’m ready to come… so ready… you have no idea… oh, yes… like that… spread me… fuck me… don’t you fucking  _dare_  stop for anything… let it hurt, you bastard, let it hurt if it must, or do that wandless thing you do… I don’t care… I just want you inside… so deep… inside me… filling me… owning me… fucking me… fucking me hard… hard… so hard… yesssss… oh, yesss… oh,  _godfuckinggod_ , Ron… make me… make me come… break me… like only-you-know-how…. Oh, you gorgeous motherfucker, yessss… Ron, Christ, Ron… now!!! Oh, fucking now… oh, fuck sweetmotherofgod, you crazy beast…  now… Ron… godsweetfuckinggod, baby… yeah…”  
  
The redhead just drove inside him with all his might, fucking  _moving_  the screwed down table and biting his scream into the tender spot between Draco’s neck and his shoulder and nothing, absolutely nothing in the world could make Draco come harder than the jolt of pain mingled right into his mind-bursting orgasm and a muffled helpless growl: “Draco, fuck… fuck, baby… fuck… love you… Draco… oh….”  
  
“Bitch… you lovely wonderful crazy bitch… god, the things you made me do…”  
  
Ron, breathless and drained, collapsed over the beautiful body of his lover, covered in sweat and juices, looking utterly ravaged and destroyed. Draco barely had enough life left inside him to breathe, but the redhead knew he had to get his point across before the reckless blond takes a foolish step in the wrong direction. “Potter would splatter me from here to bloody China if he knew how I just desecrated his fucking beloved table… We must have fucked here just as often as we did in any bed… he’d  _murder_  me… and there’s no words what he’d do to you… So don’t you ever go fucking about telling him, d’you hear me?! Don’t.Fuck.With Harry’s.Magic.  _Ever_. Understood?! That thing… it runs deeper and stronger than he’s even aware of it, he’s been marked by Voldemort beyond repair, he doesn’t even know the half of it himself, he’d probably fucking kill you on instinct before he’d realize it. He can barely keep it in check sometimes. So don’t even think about mention this to taunt him.  _Ever_. Are we clear on that? Draco?”  
  
“Yeah… we’re clear… anything you say… Merlin, I can’t believe how I let you break me every fucking time… “ moaned the blond, half in pain, half in a post-orgasmic bliss. “I can’t believe we actually went and did it… here… of all places… you’re fucking mental, you know that, don’t you?! To do something like this… god, I never had more incredible sex in my life and we’ve only been fucking like half a day… And what the fuck is that wandless thing you do… Where on Salazaar’s bloody earth did you learn to do that and do it so bloody well?!”  
  
And this time Ron smiled in genuine: “Remember how I broke my wand the second year at Hogwarts? The damn thing was making me miserable for the rest of the year and I swore if I ever lived long enough – and hanging around Potter that wasn’t always a given! - wandless magic was something I really wanted to get into. So I practiced every chance I got and eventually I got really good at it. It comes in quite handy when you’re out on the field – most opponents think you completely naked without your wand in sight and it’s my pleasure to prove them sorely wrong. And of course it is also dead useful when you’re stuck with handling two little screaming ones while your wife is out there making a career for herself,” he added a bit more quietly and just a tad bitter. “Speaking of which…”  
  
He got up and looked intently at the blond still lying boneless on the rather dishevelled looking table.  
  
“I trust I can still hold you to your word regardless of the circumstances of how it was given?”  
  
“Oh, bloody hell, Weasley, you and only you can talk about your wife in moments like these,” sighed Draco, still unwilling to open his eyes. “I’ll hate you for it, I know I will, but I’ve said what I’ve said. I’ll give her this fucking apology you’re after, but don’t expect me to be very elaborate, sincere and courteous about it, as I’ve still no idea what I’m supposed to be apologizing for…”  
  
And then Draco fell the strong body lean over him once more and Ron’s big hands cupped his face, so he opened his eyes, cause he would never miss a chance to stare down those incredible blue eyes up close. They were magical and so very deep he was once more in danger to get lost in them and not hear a word of what the redhead was saying.  
  
“You will apologize because you hurt her,” said Ron quietly, but firmly. “You’re nothing but a fool if you think I’d ever be ashamed of us, of what we’ve got, after last night, but you’ve hurt her and you need to tell her, that was never your intention. You’ve hurt my wife, Draco. Be as it may, she’s still my wife, one of the best friends I’ve ever had, one of the best people you and I are ever going to come across. And no one hurts my wife, not even you. She’s incredible generous, my Hermione, and if I can get her to forgive us, not just you and me, but also me and herself, for messing this up, then she’ll be the strongest ally we’re ever going to have. She’d never see me harmed, not really. Punished, perhaps, but deep down inside we care for each other too deeply to ever wish each other hurt. She’s an incredible, wonderful, warm person and you’ve hurt her. And she needs you apology to understand that hurting her was not a goal on its own – even if it was, you’re going to fucking lie about it, you pouting snake! – but you did it because your ultimate purpose was to get to me. Tell her you did it for love, whether you did or you didn’t, she won’t be able to hold it against you after that. I know my Hermione all too well. All romance under that brain, that one.”  
  
And Draco had nothing to say after that. He just nodded quietly and offered a small kiss to seal their agreement. Somewhere deep down inside he might have been even a little bit moved. Fucking Gryffindors and their loyalties…  getting to him like they did… But he was so vulnerable right now and he knew it. He was putting everything on the line for Ron and the quiet understanding under his consent was the implication that the same loyalty extended to him as well, once Ron incorporated him into his world. If he was so fiercely protective of his estranged wife, Draco had nothing to fear. He just witnessed that Ron would do almost anything, risk all that and more to prove his loyalty to the ones he cared about. And as much as that put him to peace, it also started another, a slightly more disturbing train of thought...  
  
“What about Potter?” he blurted out, not really sure what he expected to hear of if he could even handle it. “We’re hurting him as well, like it or not. Are you going to make me apologize to him as well?!”  
  
Ron got up abruptly and turned away, so Draco could only see a soft curve of his profile, and ran fingers through his hair, a clear sign that at this point he didn’t have all the answers.  
  
“Harry had it coming,” he finally said quietly. “He had it coming for ages… Merlin knows I’d never willingly hurt him, as he would not hurt me, not on purpose anyway, but it’s been all about Harry for too fucking long now. He can’t and he never would make it about me, about us, if I didn’t break it off and show him there is a Ron without a Harry. There must be. He probably never would have realized how overwhelming and overwhelmingly hurtful he was being. I don’t have words for it, I never did – as you so astutely noticed, my eloquence isn’t worth two shits on the best of days – so I had to show him. And I can’t ever go back to what we were, even if he was to leave everything behind now and begged me to take him back – and that’s so not his style! I don’t think I could ever forget that he wouldn’t put what we had first until I forced him to. And that’s just not good enough for me. So – no. I’m not going to ask you to apologize to Harry, if anyone’s got penance to do, it’s him.  
  
I won’t lie - I still want to be his best mate, something hurts and just feels off when he’s not around and I know he’s pissed off at me – but I don’t want it for the price of being his lover again. I don’t want to go down that road ever again, to feel captured in a relationship that weighs me down. The love we had – and have no doubt - it was love, the most intense, pure, dark love there could have been!– that love felt like rich golden honey, capturing me with all that was sweet about it, but never letting me fly away to be everything I could have been. While what we have…”  
  
He turned towards him and looked him straight in the eye, making the blond’s breath hitch into the sky for he realized this could be one of the breaking points of their tender relationship. Ron stayed silent for a moment longer, making Draco brace himself for anything that might be coming, and finally spoke softly:  
  
“I’ve never felt so free and cherished in my life. I don’t know if this is love yet, but it feels like something precious and fragile and vital I definitely need to protect at all cost. If you left me now, you’d still be one of the best things that happened to me. I can’t look you in the eye yet and tell you that I love you, but I hope that when the time comes, it will come out of me without you having to ask for it. Cause I feel something between us… I can’t quite catch it with my words, but it’s here with me all the time, with every breath I take. I don’t know how to call it, but it makes me feel like I belong. I belong with you like two pieces of very odd puzzle that just merge with each other when you put them together. It’s driving me to be with you, it’s making me  _want_  to love you. If only you’re willing to let me.”  
  
And Draco was left speechless for a while, struggling to keep his emotions in check and not to say too much. To hear Ron Weasley say that he wanted to love him was a bit much for his frayed nerves. In the end he managed simply:  
  
“If it’s time you’re asking for, it’s time you’re going to get. My lifetime is yours. I would have given it to you anyway, cause you are all I can think about. And it’s been like that for ages now, so that’s that. It’s not going to change. I never expected life to give me a chance to convince you that I might be the answer to all your heart’s desires. But it did and to me it’s a privilege, however bittersweet, to be able to try, though I have no way of knowing how this is going to end. And even if I’m not the one and you figure out you can’t love me after all, not in earnest and not with all your heart - a journey by your side would still have been worth it to me. I just love you that much. I think I might love you for both of us. It’s enough for me. No one else would do anyway.”  
  
“Oh, Draco… just… shut up,” said Ron in a quivering voice testifying that he was more than a little moved and undone by a sudden rush of emotion he had no name for, but which made him want to pull the blond closer and just hug him stupid. He settled for a long lingering kiss instead and whispered: “Don’t do that to me… making my brains melt out of my skull with your smart words like that… I need my wits about, you know… I’ve got things to do here… oh, man… I wish I didn’t, though… you taste every bit like sin and oblivion… wish there was a way I could skip today… but sadly, the only Time-turner in a working condition is in my wife’s office… so…” One last kiss, long fingers caressing his cheek, and then Ron got up. “You see, we have more than one reason to want to be there today,” he smiled with just a hint of sadness. “I wish this was behind me rather than before me, but from where I stand, I have little choice. If I’m going to turn a fresh page in life, I don’t want any loose ends. So how about you make good on that “stand by your side” speech, get up and help me get this day over with?”  
  
“I don’t want to leave,” mumbled the Slytherin. “Can’t we steal this desk from Potter? It’s awfully cosy…”  
  
“That’s because it has about a million cushioning charms on it, silly… and don’t bother asking me, how I know,” Ron rolled his eyes up and went about cleaning himself, the lazy sprawled blond, too destroyed to move, and the mess they made on the floor. At one point he moved his lover from the desk onto the comfortable office chair quite mercilessly, earning himself a loud scolding  _“watch it, brute!”_ , but he wouldn’t let himself be stopped until there was no sign of recent activity in the room. He even managed to charm small specks of dust to dance around Harry’s things and when Draco finally bothered to look around, he was impressed.  
  
“That’s… persuasive!” He couldn’t help but express his admiration. The redhead really was good in everything he took on, wasn’t he!? But Ron just smiled, not just a little proud:  
  
“You might not think much of my mother, but that woman could train a troll to do her dishes and not break a single one! She actually trained  _this_  troll to do all that! She’s quite handy around the household, my mum, she is! Slightly much in the department of temper, I’ll give you that, but the best mother and housewife in England, guaranteed! Now – let’s not annihilate all my hard work and be found here – I want to get out of this place before Potter remembers he forgot his favourite quill and returns to us… snogging…” he mumbled because Draco remembered that there’s a whole long day of “no touching” policy still in front of him and moved in to serve himself his last fix of Ron before a whole day’s abstinence.  
  
And it was about time indeed. They hardly made 20 steps out of Harry’s office and down the hallway, when they heard a buzzing sound of the Ministry’s top-importance memo, recognisable by its psychotic yellow colour, trying to catch up with them and –as it looked – attach itself to Ron by all means. The redhead snatched it from the air with impressive speed, opened it and read the content. He passed it to the Slytherin with no words and big angry red letters jumped at Draco’s face like a whip.  
  
“The Minister will see you now.”  
  
He looked at Ron, who seemed every bit an Auror, utterly composed and unreadable, and just nodded curtly:  
  
“Showtime, as Muggles say. Stick around, I’ll let you know when your presence is required. And wish me luck.”  
  
“Good luck,” said Draco, suddenly uncommonly nervous. He didn’t like the fact that his good fortune rested with Hermione Granger Weasley. The woman had a long memory and even a longer arm when it came to influence. She wasn’t made Minister of Magic for nothing, before she was 25. He could only hope Ron’s faith in her was justified.


	9. "...now the damage is done and we're back out on the run..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is taken from a Guns n'Roses song called Breakdown. Yeah, I'm a fan, so shoot me. ;) No infringement intended.

Hermione Granger Weasley has been staring at the Prophet for hours. She could no longer see the shocking images on the front page with fat black letters announcing that “The Minister’s husband crossed to the other side!!! –  _Read Rita Skeeter’s exclusive insight and background to a scandalous relationship, more graphic photos on page 2”._  
  
Her impressive mind was unusually scattered, as if it couldn’t decided if it wanted to play the images of happier times, tainted with the bitter thoughts of what a disaster her marriage turned out to be, or perhaps plan what to do next, where to go, who to turn to. All avenues seemed closed at the moment. For Ron to do that… it was unthinkable, as reckless as her husband always was, it just seemed he would never stray so far from what was good and right just out of spite. And Malfoy…  _and bloody Malfoy_!!! She let her face sink into her hands when she thought how brilliantly she’d been played. The bastard!  
  
She should have known a trap when she saw one, he was too bloody compliant when she asked for a proof of the rumours he so subtly but unmistakably hinted at when they casually – nothing casual about it, she knew that now! – met in a Ministry diner and he unexpectedly asked if he could join her at the table. The master manipulator he was, the blond was fully aware she won’t do anything in so public a place when he told her – in a voice as casual as if he was discussing the weather – that he admired her handling her husband’s “marital transgressions” with so much grace.  
  
It took everything she had to invite him to privately discuss the matter at her quarters as she had no idea what he had been on about – while, in fact, she never felt more like screaming in her life. Even the thought of Ron,  _her_  Ron, her husband who never failed to show her he loved and wanted her, sometimes even a bit too much for her to take on – even the thought of him sharing his affection, his warm heart-stopping smile, his big hands on another’s skin… she couldn’t handle it, she wanted to hex the sneering blond into oblivion just for introducing the idea into her head!  
  
Except deep down inside she already knew what Malfoy so smugly threw under her nose. She wasn’t blind and she wasn’t called the smartest witch of her generation for nothing – on more than one occasion she had quickly looked away when Harry’s hands lingered just a tad too long on her husbands muscular back for it to resemble simple friendship. She willingly closed her mental eye to the hungry looks from the green eyes as if Ron was Harry’s to have and she more than once told herself through the gritted teeth that Harry was just starved of affection and that was that. Ron belonged to her, he had made his choice and nothing Harry did could change that.  
  
But now she was no longer the only one in on the joke. Malfoy knew, god knows how he found out and why he bothered, but he knew and he offered to  _show_  her the proof. She could hardly say no to that, since she asked for it herself and once she saw it through his memory – she saw that hungry mouth of Harry’s devouring her Ron, she saw her beautiful dominant husband push him against the wall and take what was clearly his to have – once she saw it, she could no longer erase the images from her mind, she could never go back to not knowing.  
  
Back then she had felt like crying, she felt like physically punching Malfoy into his smug narrow face, she felt destroyed, worthless and beyond everything – livid. It was as if her ignorance of many years demanded a pay-back with a vengeance and once Malfoy hinted that her husband might  _“be at it”_  in those very moments when they were having this conversation, when she believed him safe at home and playing with kids – that had infuriated her to a point that she left the Malfoy sitting in her office without another word and apparated straight to her home to see the truth with her own eyes, to face Ron with it, to have him deny it like she hoped he could. But she couldn’t have what wasn’t there to begin with.  
  
Merlin knows how much Malfoy must have paid to get this right, but Ron was indeed home, not with the kids, but with Harry and what she saw - … Even when she tried to close her mind to it she still couldn’t get rid the offending images of Ron, her Ron, her always eager but gentle husband, standing behind Harry in all his naked glory, pounding into him with all his might, with a face so hard it was almost brutal, his blue eyes feral and ablaze with an infernal glow she’s never seen before; and Harry, wearing an expression of pain and absolute pleasure blended on his face so far gone he barely looked conscious, mouth blabbing something about allowing him to come, begging him to fuck him harder, to punish him… she just screamed to stop them and she couldn’t stop herself from screaming for a while. Ron did it for her, in the end, throwing a silencing spell at her.  
  
And her life, next to perfect just moments before, seemed to have dissolved to nothing before her very eyes. Ron stubbornly refused to let Harry go –“ _I will let him go when HE asks it of me”_  - and he proved completely unreasonable when she threatened him to take the children away. He merely looked at her with his eyes as hard as sapphires and smiled a small and dangerous smile she saw him use on the people he brought in as part of his job.  
  
“Oh, don’t you even try that on me! We both know you’re in no position to take care of the little ones. You’ve sacrificed this family to your ambition as much as I did to keep what Harry and I had since we were 16! Everything was fine, just bloody fine, until you took on this job  _without even consulting me_ , as if my opinion was worthless, because, frankly, to you it always was. I was just a perfect fuck-toy, always available to play with should you feel like it; a faithful hubby who was happy to take care of your kids while you were out there making a career for yourself, a perfect side-dish once more. _Perfect_  modern fucking family!  
  
Well, I’ve had enough of it! If you even  _think_  about stopping me from seeing my kids – who, by the way, barely recognise you in your three-dimensional form, they’re so bloody used to seeing you in the newspapers, but hardly ever at home –  _if you even think about going that way_ , I’ll be the one asking for divorce and I don’t care who I drag down with me! I’ll tell them fucking everything – how I yearned for Harry since I was in my teens, how I wanted to do the right thing and be a good husband, but my career-obsessed wife would never give our marriage a chance – do you really want something like that soiling your reputation, throwing your ambitious career in a less than flattering light?! And trust me, I’ll do it, I’ve got nothing to lose – if you fire me, everyone will say you had done it out of vengeance. I’ll fucking go and clean shelves for George if I have to for the rest of my days, but I will not see my kids become strangers to me.  _No.You.Don’t_!!”  
  
She had given in at this point, recognising the reason behind his words, and though it had hurt so much she could barely breathe at that moment, she had collected her wits about and asked him as coolly as she managed:  
  
“So what do you propose?”  
  
Ron’s expression softened a little, when he realized she wasn’t going to oppose, but the darkness still hasn’t left his face entirely:  
  
“I don’t have much of a say, do I? I reckon you can’t stand the sight of me at the moment, especially if Harry keeps coming around – and he will, don’t you doubt it! – so if you’re fine with it, I’ll go get myself a place to stay over the night. But I’ll have my family deliver the kids here every day, just like they did up until now and I’ll come back here from work to stay with the little ones, tuck them in, like they’re used to. If you don’t want the divorce, don’t worry, I’m willing to keep up the façade for as long as you need me to. But I want to have a life of my own, Hermione. Too long I’ve spent dwelling in the dark, always someone’s shadow. I’ve long stop wishing for the fame and the spotlight, but I would appreciate some warmth, someone to love me for me, not to make me feel like I’m merely a convenience.”  
  
“Well, I hardly think this is Harry, then,” she had told him coldly, willing to hurt him, hoping she would, so he would at least feel a fraction of how worthless he made her feel. How dare he fight for the children and not for his chance to stay with her?! “If you hope to step out of the shadow, then he’s not the one, Ron. There  _is_  no way out of he shadow he casts. Why do you think I was asked to become a Minister in the first place? Because Harry had – not so casually, it seems - mentioned it on several occasions, to all the right people, that he couldn’t think of a better person for the job. Looking back, perhaps he did it with a plan to get me out of the picture, knowing I’d never pass up an opportunity like that – it was him, after all, who called me with the job offer - but I can’t really say that I’m sorry, whatever his motives. I love my job and you knew before you proposed to me that I wanted a career.  
  
But I suppose we’ll see soon enough if you’re worth to Harry as much as he’s clearly worth to you! I have every intention of informing Ginny of this little affair of yours – I could never look her in the eye again if I didn’t! – and then Harry can count his lucky stars if he’s even given a chance to choose between you and the life he has with her. And  _husband dear_ , I wouldn’t be so cock-sure of your chances, with family and his reputation on the other side!” she had spat at him and felt a perverse pleasure to see him go a shade paler.  
  
“I suppose you’re right,” he said, his crystal blue eyes just a shade darker and a small wrinkle by the mouth testifying to his distress. “He’ll never choose me with those options at hand, you know that as well as I do – there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to keep the kids. But I can’t go back to lies either, Hermione.”  
  
He had looked her straight in the eye with these words, his blue eyes so sincere and clean she felt a sudden jolt of pain, regret and shame of having turned his feeble self-esteem against him and hurt him.  
  
“I can’t go back to cheating you, cheating myself of a better life,” he said simply.  
  
And deep down in her heart she knew he was right. She, too, had wronged him; it was not only him who was being hurtful. She realized she never put him first, as she should as a wife, she never sought his advice when it came to work, though he was one of the best in his field and a brilliant strategist, she had never trusted him blindly and believed in him unconditionally as she did in Harry, she never thanked him for always being there for her and her ambitions, she never expressed her admiration for him rising up to the role of a father as splendidly as he did – she had always treated him as a given, as if he was always going to be there because she was simply the best he was ever going to get.  
  
She never thought he could leave her. And now when he was about to… She didn’t know how to function without a thought of him being around, without a warm bed to return to, without the comforting thought of the kids slumbering happily in their little beds, safe in the hands of a father that was more than capable of handling them alone. Her world suddenly became rocked upside-down at the concept of Ron leaving and it took all the pride she had not to tell him she forgave him and begged him not to leave. Instead she pressed her lips together tightly, too hurt to tell him she understood and she made a short thing of their goodbye instead:  
  
“Well, good luck with that, Ron. I’ll expect you out by Friday.”  
  
He looked at her with sadness in those beautiful brilliant eyes and spoke softly:  
  
“Suit yourself. I’ll be back to get my things tomorrow afternoon and I’ll stay with the kids until you’re home every day. If you ever need a friend… I’ll be there, every day. Goodbye, Hermione.”  
  
And he left. And she crumbled, right there and then. The sound of his disapparation was all it took to have her on her knees, crying a bloody river. She knew then as she knew now that it was wrong to have him leave without a proper goodbye. They both needed a friend more than anything in the days that followed; Harry gave him up, just as she predicted – but then again, not really, if the rumours she finally allowed herself to hear were true; while she somehow stumbled forward, feeling every bit like a mere ghost of herself, lost and hollow. She found out she did not really know who she bloody well was in the morning, when she woke up to an empty bed.  
  
Hermione Granger Weasley  _never_  woke up to an empty bed, there was always a warm, overwhelming presence wrapped around her, his body never more than a touch away and she had problems figuring out on which side of the bed she was supposed to get out of, with him gone as her compass. It had irritated her so, that in the end she had shrunk her bed to a single one and then cried over it some and expanded it once again into its original size. At least that way she could pretend she would once again wake up from this nightmare and Ron would still be there. She found out she couldn’t do without hope.  
  
Having lost both of her friends at one – things between Harry and herself were just too damn awkward - she dug herself into her work, trying to ignore the dreadful thought of coming home to the sleeping kids and an empty bed, because it had made her ambitiousness feel shallow and it only served to make her see how much she had lost and traded away. She missed him, G _od_  how she missed him! She missed everything about him, every little thing that made him her husband… his passion, his insatiable sexual appetite – Merlin, was he ever the animal in bed, how could she ever thought she wouldn’t miss it! – his warm strong fingers rubbing the muscles around her tired strained shoulders after an exhausting working day, the warm scented baths he liked to spoil her with, the Sunday breakfasts – and then some! - in bed, the stupid odd things like the scent of his shaving lotion, his scattered toiletries all around the bathroom, finding pieces of his clothing in the most impossible places…  
  
And it was worse every time she caught a glimpse of him at work, because her heart felt about a ton heavy and she had to look away quickly to stop herself from launching at him and demanding of him to come the hell back to her, because he had no business being anywhere else! And sometimes in the evening, with kids already tucked in before she got home, the scent of his presence still in the air, she found the weight of an empty home unbearable. It felt as if a house lost its pulse with him gone, as if it was no longer a home, but merely a place she came to stay in at nights, hardly better than a hotel. And in those moments she missed her friend Ron the most; too many times she burst into tears uncontrollably just wishing him by her side already, to come to her rescue, to end this nightmare. She could almost picture the awkward blush spreading to his cheeks if he caught her crying, she could nearly feel his clumsy embarrassed hug in the face of girly emotion and she knew he would hold her through it nonetheless.  
  
“Oh, Ron, what have we become?” she thought to herself miserably, staring at a happy face in The Prophet, smiling gently and possessively at Malfoy, at bloody Malfoy, of all people!! Ron she knew would never… he would  _never ever_  have anything to do with Malfoy, he wouldn’t touch him with a rack, how on Merlin’s blasted earth had he ended up looking at the poisonous blond as if he wouldn’t trade him for the world!? She was almost tempted to believe the delusional Skeeter’s writing of illegal magic being used to make him go along with it, but she knew Ron too well: that smile was only in place because he got exactly what he wanted.  
  
And when another one of the million memos this morning floated in and opened itself in front of her, informing her politely, that her husband asked to have a word - she realized that what  _she_  wanted were answers. She desperately needed some sort of explanation to find her footing again, to see how to handle this. Because at this point she didn’t know how to feel, how to act, how to bloody turn not to hurt herself further and do something she would come to regret. So she scribbled her reply and waited, trying not to think, not knowing what to expect.  
  
So it shook her unexpectedly and to her very core once the door opened and a tall figure stepped in, lingering by the door a moment too long as if not certain how to proceed. The shock shot right through her chest, the pain suddenly so acute she almost forgot how to breathe. She forgot how overwhelming his presence was from up close, how easy it was for him to take up all the remaining space, how perfectly built he was to shake her out of her very skin and leave her feeling vulnerable and defenceless. He was just bloody gorgeous, wasn’t he, leaning against the door; tall, all-encompassing and just radiating warm life, river of flaming hair slipping out from a disorderly pony-tail, eyes as sapphire blue and as mesmerising as they were ever going to be - a perfect picture of paradise lost. And while her heart was shattering in a million pieces and she struggled with feeble attempts to breathe, just bloody  _breathe_  to make it through those unbearable moments keeping them apart, he crossed the distance between them with two strides of his long legs and suddenly she found herself immersed in his warm embrace and finally she allowed herself to fall apart at long last. She realized she missed him far more than she ever came to hate him.  
  
He didn’t mind the sobbing this time, he held her through it like she knew her best friend Ron, the one she knew since she was 11, always would. He just held her, anchoring her, stilling her dissolving world for a moment and only now she became aware how acutely she missed this, his physical presence, his big bear hug, submerging her into that incredible warm scent that smelled every bit like home to her. She knew she would have to let go eventually, but at the moment it just meant the world to her that he came because she knew how badly she needed him to come and make things right between them. They always communicated better without words and his quiet “ _I’m sorry, Hermione, I never meant to hurt you_ ”, was not necessary, she knew he didn’t. It was just Ron, her Ron, hurting her nevertheless because that seemed his bloody  _job_  in her life!  
  
It took a while for her to come together enough to speak, but none of the usual post-tears awkwardness applied between them, not this time. He was just as fine with her not talking as he was when she finally managed to open her mouth for something other than crying. And once she started talking, she found out she could barely stop, words pouring out of her like waterfall, poignant with bitterness seeping into her voice uninvited, but unavoidable.  
  
 “What the hell is this, Ron? What on Merlin’s bloody earth is going on?! A warning would have been nice, to say the least! You and Malfoy…”  
  
“I had no warning,” he interrupted her, seeing where this was going and not willing to have it end the same way as last time. “And Malfoy… he loves me,” he added matter-of-factly as if those words had the power to explain it all and take away the misery. But certainly not the misery Hermione felt.  
  
“ _Of course_ …  he  _loves_  you!” she all but screamed, sarcasm oozing out of her voice. “That’s why he went and ruined our lives!” And then a sudden realization froze her world momentarily, leaving her mind blank - until all things fell into place with startling clarity and suddenly she could make sense of it all.  
  
“Oh my god… Of course…. he  _loves_  you,” she uttered, her brilliant mind playing her one flash of memory after another of young Malfoy at Hogwarts staring at Ron in cold disdain, smirking at him, spitting venom and taunting him, provoking him into an umpteenth brawl, staring, always staring with those cold grey eyes and never  _ever_  leaving him alone, following him around like an annoying shadow you can’t get rid of. Of course he bloody well  _loved_  him, no Malfoy would have ever invested all that time and energy into someone they didn’t care about! And of course the whole world would think it was Harry he was after, no one would bother to look slightly to the side and behind Harry; no one would ever come to suspect that it was an inconspicuous side-kick, an awkward gangly boy in faded second-hand robes that captured the attention of the heir to the most prominent pureblood family in England rather than the Saviour himself. Harry was just too good a cover.  
  
And then after the war the blond bastard came and asked for a job at the Ministry, when everybody knew Malfoys  _just didn’t work_ , and it almost make her bark out a bitter laughter when she remembered  _she_  was the one that supported his application and vouched for him,  _against_  Ron’s will –  _“oh, no, not the Malfoy bastard, he’ll be nothing but trouble, you’ll see!”_  – but she was so taken with the spirit of creating the new unity for the wizarding England and having Malfoy on board fit so perfectly into this picture…  
  
And god knows how much resources he must have invested to find out about them, about Harry and Ron having… – no, she didn’t want to think about that now –and when he did, when he got his perfect undisputable proof, she was his first and most vulnerable target and that incredible reckless bastard didn’t give two shits about her position as a Minister! He must have either thought this through really carefully, planning every last detail, making him a bloody genius – or the waiting has made him so incredibly desperate he just decided to fire all of his weapons at once and to hell with caution! It gave her the shivers to think, how much he must love him, then, how deep have the roots of his unrequited obsession spread in all those years of hopeless neglect. Of course he loved Ron, nothing else could explain the nightmare they were living through.  
  
But Ron being Ron, always a little less than sure of himself, misunderstood her silence for disbelief and said in a quiet, but determined voice:  
  
“I know it’s hard to believe… I found it almost impossible to believe at first myself… I…you know how I get, always thinking people are pulling my leg because I’m just to thick to notice… so I challenged him time and time again and he rose up to the challenge every single time, Hermione… he went out with me, just me, no other mates around, for everyone to see and that before there was anything serious going on between us, just to show the world he was not ashamed to be seen with me! He told me – and showed me! – more than once what he truly feels about me and Merlin, that man can talk! He could talk an Eskimo into buying ice, but it’s not only his words… it’s  _how_  he says things, that really got to me… made me forget my suspicions that this was all just some giant elaborate hoax to humiliate me. He made me feel like a million galleons worth, Hermione, and I’ve only been around him for less than two days!  
  
And then Harry found out about us becoming an item – oh, it’s a long story, I’ll let you in on the details later – and he went and did this to us, this whole newspaper set-up… you didn’t really think it was me, looking for attention, did you? I’d never do something like that to you, to us. But my point is – when this whole affair exploded into something public, Draco really came through for me, he didn’t even bother looking for excuses, he simply acknowledged us, something Harry never had and never would have done in all our years together! He’s just putting everything on the line for me, he’s…”  
  
“Ron!” she cut through his words, looking at him properly for the first time and was almost saddened to see how hurt he looked when he thought she found it so hard to believe someone could love  _him_  unconditionally. “You don’t have to say more. I believe you. I do. Malfoy loves you. It’s the only explanation. Besides… I know he does,” she allowed a small memory creeping back into her head. “I saw it… I saw it in his head when he let me use legilimency on him, I just didn’t know what it was that I saw back then… I saw your face, one image after another, floating around in his mind… “ She shut up abruptly at this point cause her astute mind finally put it together into what it was that she saw. It was a room, it must have been, with walls covered in Ron’s pictures, magazine scraps, drawings and sketches, Ron’s image plastered all around, a shrine dedicated to her husband.  
  
“At the time I thought I was projecting,” she proceeded quickly, so he might not begin to wonder what exactly it was, she was remembering. “I thought it was just me, seeing your face because my mind was so focused on you, but I distinctly remember I saw this first and  _then_  he closed his mind to me. It must have been his thoughts then, his memories…”  
  
Her voice trailed off again, when more and more images floated into her head… a broken wand, the very one Ron destroyed in the second year, how could she ever forget it, they all tried fixing it so many times… an old broom… Cleansweep, was it? Ron’s first… it must have been, it still had Fred’s name scratched upon it, Ron never did own anything new… boxes and drawers of other junk, everything Malfoy must have collected over the years that once belonged to Ron. And she only saw a small glimpse of it before he all but threw her out of his head. She didn’t know why but for some reason she didn’t want Ron to know what she saw, it was sad and not just a little scary.  
  
“I could not make heads or tails out of it at the time,” she said with a knot in her throat. “I had other things on my mind. But this man,… he’s obsessed with you, no need to tell me that. He’s desperate after all these years… Ron, this is not right, perhaps you should reconsider…”  
  
“But you see, that’s why he’s exactly what I need, Hermione!” Ron interfered feverishly. “I want someone like that, someone  _exactly_  like that! I was never special to anyone, you know that better than anyone else – not to my mother, clearly not to Harry, not even to you – everyone around me always felt it was OK,  _just bloody fine_  if they side-tracked me for something of higher value, someone more important. And all this time I wished for nothing else but for someone who’d sell their bloody soul for me, just me! Around him I feel loved, perhaps for the first time in my life, unconditionally.  
  
And that’s why he’s so right for me, you should see - I mean, of course you shouldn’t, not really, how could you want to, that was… that was just such a “ _me_ ” thing to say - but  _do_  take my word for it for once: the second we touch something just slips into place and… I can’t explain… we feel like one. Sex is… oh, you don’t wanna know, but it’s not just that, he just  _feels_  right next to me, like a long lost piece of this weird abstract puzzle found its way home…  
  
And believe me, I know how out-of-this-world this sounds, I’ve been through it in my head so many times since it first happened that I almost broke my brain over it, but I still could make any sense of us –except that it feels as if we were made for each other. I have no proper explanation, just that… it feels the way it should feel with you. And that’s why I’m here today, Hermione. ”  
  
He looked her straight in the eye and continued with his quiet determined voice:  
  
“I’m here to make things right between us, to give us a chance of a new beginning. Things haven’t been right between us for years, what we had going on with Harry would never have happened, if they were, but I finally had enough of it. Perhaps we never should have married each other to begin with, but for my part, I don’t regret it. I got to spend some of the most wonderful years of my life with the most brilliant girl on the planet and she gave me my two little rays of sunshine – how could I ever regret that? But since things have gone awry between us, I’ve missed my friend Hermione far more than I ever missed my wife. And I want her back. I want my friend Hermione back, no matter what happens to us. Can I have her, Hermione? Can I have my friend back? I know I have wronged you and believe me, if there was a way I could spare you the pain I’d go out of my way to do so, but my mother used to say that new beginnings are like birth, they never come without a fair amount of pain.  
  
So I’m here today to put our marriage behind us and to turn a new page of our friendship. Will you follow me through my new life, Hermione, as a friend… or will you make me let go of you completely?”  
  
He stared at her with his brilliant clear blue eyes, like he hasn’t done in years – no deceit, no more lies, just her friend Ron asking for her support because for once it was him who needed what he had given away so generously to his friends in all their years together. She never loved him more than in those moments and she found out she had no heart to deny him.  
  
“I missed you, too, you pillock,” she hugged him fiercely and when he closed his strong arms around her into a wonderfully warm bear-hug, she tried not to choke on bits of her heart still clinging to him desperately. “And I will give you your freedom… it’s yours to have anyway… I can’t tell you where to take your heart, Ron, but I do hope you find love… I know how badly you need it… even if it’s with a mad dangerous creature like Draco Malfoy… Merlin, who ever would have thought…” she laughed through the tears that started running down her cheeks once again unabashed and uncalled for.  
  
And when she felt his chest rumble around her in the echo of his own laughter, she felt she found her grip in this new reality once more. With him laughing like that, his arms wrapped around her, everything was going to be OK.  
  
“Yeah,” he mumbled with no small amount of embarrassment. “Who would have thought… the ferret… ruining my life like this, just like he used to, nothing new about that… And then the git jumps at me from the shadows with all his overwhelming love and he finally knocks me completely off my feet… You should see him, Hermione, he really does love me, he really does!”  
  
“Oh, Ron, wish you were not as thick when it comes to feelings!” sighed his still-wife. “You’re like the easiest person on the planet to love,  _everybody_  bloody loves you,  _everyone_  does!”  
  
“If you say so…” mumbled Ron, a little flushed with embarrassment at her unexpected compliment. And then his eyes brightened with the most beautiful glow of happiness. “But not like he does! You should see him, Mione, his eyes shine like silver, it takes one touch to turn him into this purring kitten, he’s really into me…”  
  
“Too much information,” Hermione turned her nose up, not sure he could handle an image of a beaming Draco Malfoy right about now. “I know you’re eager to patch up things between us right now, but I don’t think there will ever be any love lost between Malfoy and I, Ron, no matter how hard you try. I can’t stand the look of him, since… well,  _forever_ , but particularly since he went and tore us all apart like he did, with a mark of his usual arrogance and selfishness all over it. I know it was probably for the best in the end, but still… to go and do something like that with a complete disregard for anyone’s feelings but his own…”  
  
“I think he might have something to say on the matter,” Ron said quietly. “I brought him along and he’s got a thing or two to say to you, if you’re willing to listen.”  
  
Hermione just stared at her husband in disbelief at what he was asking of her. She didn’t want to see Draco bloody Malfoy, well, maybe she did, but just as  _a pile of ashes_  at her feet! She would hex the bastard into the Middle ages if he was to appear in front of her right now, he couldn’t possibly have the audacity…  or did he really have a death-wish?!  
  
“Ron, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she tried in her most calm voice, but even she could hear the edge of rage cutting through the silken surface of her imparted politeness.  
  
“It’s the only way,” her husband said with his typical stubbornness and she had a sudden flashback of what their arguments were all about – she wanted something and she sank her teeth right into it while he wouldn’t back down a hair’s width. “It’s not easy for him to do this so at least show him the courtesy of hearing him out. You hear out criminals and all kinds of scum all the time, you can do that. You can do it for me and that’s the last thing I’m going to ask of you.”  
  
“Yeah, well that  _scum_  effectively stole my husband and ruined my life, possibly my career - not your everyday criminal, is it, Ron?!” she said sarcastically and with no small amount of anger in her voice, but he looked at her with his calm blue eyes and said:  
  
“I know I’m asking a lot. But it’s for a good reason. If I’m keeping this man, he’s going to be around our kids and I don’t want you two poisoning their ears with bitter words about each other. Best get it out in the open, say what you’ve got to say to each other and close the case, as we say in the Auror department.”  
  
“It’s not that simple,” she tried, but she recognised that look of sheer determination, when he closed his head to any other thought and purpose than his own and she knew she could either deny him and risk an all out war – or go along with it, suffer through whatever Ron was making the blond say – she had no doubt he had to twist his arm into doing this, the man was no fool! – and hope to have a clean start some time in this hell of a morning. She had to re-think her life, her career, most of her choices and right now, with that look on Ron’s face, Malfoy was standing in her way.  
  
“Alright, then,” she conceded. “I’ll hear him out. But don’t get your hopes up. And don’t you think I’ll cover for him if he’s done something I’d rather not know about!” she warned him, this time dead serious. “ I’ve looked into his head and I known what he’s capable of, I’ve known since we were children, so that risk is on you, Ron. I’m not going to compromise myself further by sticking out my head for your boyfriend - especially since it’s a bloody Malfoy, obsessive, dangerous, annoying… well, Malfoy, there you have it, all in one word! - I’ve got enough on my plate as it is!”  
  
And her soon-to-be-ex-husband just nodded solemnly and simply said:  
  
“Thank you. You’ll always be my champion, Hermione.”  
  
“Oh, Ron… I thought that was Harry, you silly…” she said, just to say something, not to have those stupid unwanted tears well up in her eyes once more.  
  
“Always was, always will be,” said Ron with a small sad smile. “He’s out there on a crusade, dead certain I need saving from myself… and in most cases he would be right, but not this time. This is not his fight, not any longer, not since he chose everything he’s become over being with me. Draco didn’t. He pledged it all away to be with me and that’s worth everything in my books. Just… hear him out, he might surprise you yet.”  
  
“I doubt that,” Hermione thought sourly, dead-set on getting rid of the annoying blond as fast as she could so she could jumpstart what was left of her career and her life, but she had too much presence of mind to tell Ron that, his bull-headedness would cost her nothing but precious time.  
  
“Well, I suppose you better send your lover-boy in, then,” she sighed resigned to her fate and decided to make a short show of it. “And Ron,” she added in an after-thought. “Please be careful, he’s… I don’t trust him,” she couldn’t bring herself to use the words like “possessed” “obsessed” and “a right lunatic” that came to mind. Only when Ron nodded and she was to find herself alone with the Slytherin  for the first time since their encounter at the diner, she realized how on edge was she set by the images she saw in his head. The infernal man might be in love with her husband, there could be little doubt about that, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous. Draco Malfoy was a man to watch and to watch oneself from. After all - not everyone could have survived the Dark Lord’s embrace and lived to tell the tale.


	10. Obsession, confession (dark times)

“For all the tangled curls in Merlin’s beard, finally!”  
  
Draco Malfoy has been uncommonly nervous ever since Ron left him just in front of his wife’s protocolary quarters and quietly entered what Draco thought of “the lioness’ den”. He didn’t know why it bothered him so that Ron felt the need to talk to Hermione Granger Weasley. Oh, perhaps it was only the fact that she was admittedly the brightest witch in England at the formally most powerful position in the wizarding world and that from such a position she could do a significant amount of  _harm_. Or was it that she was still Ron’s  _wife_  - someone who knew his man intimately and in far more detail that Draco could ever hope to at this point – and that she knew how to press his buttons and ultimately do god-knows what  _harm_  to their blooming relationship? Or perhaps simply - that  _he_  was due next through that solemn and foreboding looking door and that the woman on the other side of it hated him profoundly and had good reasons to.  _Harm_ again, this time for him alone.  
  
Draco knew that in his heart he was no Gryffindor – if running was the wisest choice, he would have made it gladly - the Slytherins were, after all, the ultimate survivors, always calculating their chances of success and doing what was most rational and beneficial to their continued existence. Right now, bravery was not on the list. Draco knew that any other time, he would have avoided confrontation, at least until he could back himself and his arguments up sufficiently that he could face the Mud… the bloody woman on equal grounds. Or at the very least until when most of the initial shock wore off and she was less likely to hex him into his dead Auntie Bellatrix’s puppy, the most miserable wretched being that Draco ever had the dubious pleasure to encounter.  
  
Frankly, ever since Ron left, he had kicked himself mentally an infinite number of times for ever giving away such a reckless promise to meet the scary bitch and – oh, bloody hell! – apologize and with every passing moment Ron spent closed off behind the massive quiet door he grew more itchy and agitated. Of course, years of Malfoyian drill had him well equipped for dealing with the situation of having to hide his nervousness and though he seemingly casually leaned against the wall in the lobby in front of the ministerial quarters, he chose to spend his time and work out his nervousness by doing what he did best: being wicked.  
  
First he entertained himself by catching the memos wheezing past his ears and making him edgy – suits them right, then. He opened every single one he managed to snatch from the air – some struggled viciously and the yellow ones holding the super-important secrets were charmed beyond his reach, but no matter – and he read them all. With a reckless  _“blah blah blah, she really doesn’t need to know that, she’s got enough on her mind today,”_  he threw a hefty lot of them away - seriously, if he was ever made a Minister, he would never have allowed people to bother him with such trivial nonsense! And then he went off to incinerate some of the more stubborn ones – those sent by Potter persistently asking admittance in a 1001 way to his once-best friend were the first to go. Some of the memos he begrudgingly recognised as somewhat important, so he let them be, at least the content, but he charmed them to be particularly evasive and hard to open just out of spite. Why should life be easy on other people when he seemed to sink from one trouble to another this morning?  
  
And then people started coming, dripping in one by one, sometimes in pairs, inevitably stopping dead in their tracks when they spotted him holding his place by the door. A first couple of them he simply chased away with a haughty  _“I believe your business here is hardly important today, don’t you think?”_  and a strategically placed raised eyebrow, but as the time drove by and there was still no Ron to be seen, he grew progressively more nervous and pissed off – and consequently more vicious. The fact that he knew he was quitting in the days to come did nothing to sweeten his hungry-shark attitude.  
  
“What in bloody hell are you staring at?!” he barked at the wide-eyed female trainee, who just stumbled in, crouched under the weight of what looked like a million files. The woman positively squealed and surely enough, the files began dropping left and right from her overloaded trembling arms. Oh, an easy prey, just what he needed right now! Straight for the jugular, then!  
  
“On a second thought: do take a good hard look at an attractive male up close, darling – given your battered appearance that might well be your last chance. Got in a fight with a hippogriff this morning, did you? Even so:  _do_  un-freeze the sorry remnants of your befuddled brain for a moment, just long enough to remember that you are actually _a witch_  and as such you should be perfectly able to  _levitate_  those files rather than  _murder_  yourself  _carrying_  them around like a mere Muggle! Like so…”  
  
He effortlessly made the files float and even made them sort themselves out in the alphabetical order -before he had them rush recklessly right back through the door from where the hapless witch appeared moments ago. “And don’t bother coming back until you do something about that hair-do, I implore you, it is giving me a headache! “ he threw at her rapidly departing back when she embarked on a hopeless chase to catch the files before the precious contents was spilled. Oh, all the life’s little pleasures…  
  
Then there was a middle-aged stiff-looking wizard, one of those types who were proud to be traditional family men and were as bigoted as they came. He looked suspiciously as if he had no business with the Minister, but merely came to pry and gloat on Draco’s misery, so the blond took one long hard look at him, effectively freezing him on the spot and informed him coldly that he was too late if he came for his portion of snogs, he’d already chosen his man, thank you very much:  
  
“But since you  _do_  look rather desperate for a real man’s hug, you might want to try your luck with my father, he’s as manly as it gets and closer to your age – though I’m afraid I can’t give you any sound advice how to get around my mother!” he offered with chilling politeness before the man flew as if the Hungarian Horntail was behind his heels, swearing something about  _“corrupt rich buggers”_  under his breath.  
  
He had fun with a few more hapless visitors, right until a young man approached him; a boyish looking lad that looked barely out of Hogwarts. Draco remembered seeing him around and about far too many times to be random and judging by the young man’s jittery demeanour and a standard procedure of stuttering and blushing in his presence, he rightfully suspected the boy might have a crush on him. When he came up close, the blond noticed he was yet again flushed almost – almost! – Weasley red and shaking nervously and it was obvious it took some serious effort for him to be here. Therefore he said nothing, he just raised his eyebrow in a silent question and waited for the young man to speak his business – it was obvious, he was there for Draco and not for the Minister.  
  
The young man opened and closed his mouth several times as if the words just wouldn’t come and then he finally managed to stammer: “I was… that was a very brave thing to do Mr. Malfoy. I… there is not many out there like… us…” – he looked positively ready to faint at this admittance – “and I think you and Mr. Weasley are very… oh, god… brave and lovely together… and I wish you both all the luck in the world. I wish I had someone like that as well,” he blurted in the end, misery clearly etched into his young face.  
  
There was something about the young man that brought back a flash of memories of Draco’s own discovery he preferred boys to girls - well, at that point, just one particular boy - and it was not hard to remember how wretched, confused and alone it made him feel. Staring down the flushed embarrassed looking face he found appreciation for the young man’s bravery and somehow his anger and his frustration evaporated at the sight:  
  
“You were a Gryffindor at Hogwarts, weren’t you?” ha asked a seemingly unrelated question and when the lad nodded in confusion, Draco just sighed: “Gryffindors! A bunch of trouble, everywhere they go! And I happen to have a soft spot for one, right lucky I am! What is your name, then?”  
  
“Arjen… Arjen Debonheur, Mr. Malfoy, Sir,” the young man desperately fought to keep his wits about. Continental origin, then and if his memory served him right, not a pureblood surname - the boy had no idea how lucky he was.  
  
“Well, Mr. Debonheur, Arjen, if you don’t mind me calling you by your first name – thank you for your support. I believe Mr. Weasley and I are on a bit of a short supply of friends at the moment and I’m sure it took a great deal of courage for you to openly express your… appreciation of our relationship. I will be sure to remember your kindness,” he said as charmingly as he could and saw the young man positively melt in front of his eyes. And something about his vulnerability brushed against a soft spot in Draco and – damn Gryffindors, that’s what you get hanging out with them, turning all noble and generous, he mentally rolled his eyes up at himself, as he offered as matter-of-factly as he could (god forbid a Malfoy should ever be accused of showing compassion!):  
  
“You’re not alone in this, of course, as I’m sure you know. There are plenty of those like you… like us out there, one just has to know where to look. Should you be interested in… meeting one of our persuasion, I could, perhaps, stir you in the right direction….?” He looked at the young man pointedly when posing a delicate question, hoping he was not thick as well as a Gryffindor. When his inquiry was met with enthusiastic nodding, he merely smiled the tiniest of approving smiles and skilfully summoned a piece of parchment and a quill from the pocket of a passing-by witch without ever attracting her attention.  
  
“This is the address and  _this_ … is the password. You need to say these words at the entrance and you will be admitted, no questions asked. It is “by invitation only” so you will need to state your reference once you’re inside. Name me and you will be treated properly. The establishment is discrete and quite respectable, though not as exclusive as some gentlemen’s clubs. They will not ask your bloodline and they will not question your motives. Once you look around you will be surprised how many faces you recognise. And even if you do not find a partner of your choice – I admit, I couldn’t, as I’ve been quite focused on Mr. Weasley for a good deal of forever and he doesn’t do this kind of establishments – it will make you feel less alone and you just might make friends you never thought possible.”  
  
“I… thank you ever so much, Mr. Malfoy!” stuttered Arjen Debonheur, awed, radiating and still hardly able to believe his luck.  
  
“Don’t mention it. Well, best be on your way, you don’t want to be seen with me if you’re not quite ready to come out yet,” Draco stretched out his arm, anxious to bid the young man goodbye as he felt quite drained of all the good deeds for the day. The young man shook it eagerly, staring at him as if he just found his god and Draco couldn’t help but feeling just a bit smug.  
  
“I leave you alone for a bloody half an hour and you’ve already found yourself someone younger to pounce upon?” came a deep warm voice behind him and Draco positively jumped, the young man forgotten on the spot. Only years of Malfoyian drill stopped him from truly pouncing on a tall redhead with amusement and just a smidge of Weasley jealousy in this blue eyes and Draco could hardly think of a way to channel a sudden wave of love, relief and a tiny bit of awe that washed over him when he saw Ron staring at him with  _that_  look in his eyes.  
  
“For all the tangled curls in Merlin’s beard, finally!” he blurted out impatiently, his nervousness back with a vengeance when he saw a serious expression on Ron’s face. At some point the young man vanished, barely finding a way out of the corridor in his bliss and because they were once more alone, Ron chanced embracing the slender blond. “How did it…?” Draco’s question died on his lips when Ron kissed him thoroughly and then proceeded to look at him intently. He _loved_ the kiss, but he didn’t like  _that_  look.  
  
“We’re alright, Hermione and I; I think she’s ready to forgive me as she’s aware she had no small part to play in this fiasco that was our marriage. But as for you… I’m afraid she thinks you’re the devil incarnate, so I had to put all my weight in before she even agreed to at least hear you out.”  
  
“Well, you really shouldn’t have bothered,” murmured Draco, no more eager to face what he assumed would be a very livid, very powerful witch. He hated going into a fight and not having an upper hand, but when Ron looked at him like that, with that serious trusting spark in the brilliant blue eyes, he found out he had no heart to deny him.  
  
“Do try, Draco, and do it honestly. I know you can, I’ve seen you give it your best and look where it landed us in just a couple of days. I need you to settle this to the best of your abilities, this is our future we’re talking about. I don’t expect miracles, I know how angry my wife is at you and right now, I’m quite happy not to be in your shoes –“ yeah, never lose trust in Ron’s brilliant ability to reassure people, thought Draco miserably, a true motivational speaker his boyfriend was! – “but you’ve brought this upon yourself and I need you to settle it. Can I count on you?”  
  
The blue eyes stared at him seriously for a long moment, before a tiny spark of mischief crawled in and the redhead said in a matter-of-fact voice: “I would be… very grateful, of course… you have no idea how much… Perhaps you’d like to see tonight over a nice dinner just how grateful I can be?” he raised one of the ginger eyebrows and looked deeply into the grey eyes. And what Draco read in the blue expanse could make him go after a troll with no wand at hand.  
  
“Sure, whatever, let’s get it over with,” he blurted, his wits clearly melted like a heap of snow in August. He grabbed the door-knob adamantly and chanced one last look at his lover: “You… will be the death of me one day, Weasley. I just hope it’s not this day. I doubt you can afford the funeral I want!” And with these words he marched though the door without ever looking back.  
  
“Send me an owl when you’re done!” Ron threw in behind him. “And good luck, love,” he added to himself, with no small amount of sympathy. Normally, he’d pay good money to be able to face this particular confrontation – that is, if his feelings weren’t involved. Clearly there were two forces of nature about to face each other in that room and Ron wasn’t so certain of the outcome as he’d like to be. But there was little for it now, he had things to do in what looked like it was going to be another endless day. He decided it was as good a time as any to have lunch with his brother. He needed Bill’s help if he wanted to make things right with his family – another thing he had left unresolved for far too long and yet another seemingly impossible task.

~

The air was thick with mutual antipathy as soon as the heavy door thumped behind him as a death sentence and Draco’s fingers closed tightly around a holder of his wand, discretely hidden up his sleeve. Taking one look at Hermione Granger Weasley he was ready to pay his homage to the Muggle poet that wrote about scorned women, furies and hell. The woman looked positively  _murderous_. Cold anger and disdain were never so openly on display in otherwise soft and understanding brown eyes of the Minister of Magic. She sat behind her desk, shielded with god-knows what charms, the ultimate position of power, and never bothered to get up when he entered. He knew she would leave him standing by the door like a pauper if it was up to her, so he didn’t bother asking her permission to approach, he did so without asking. He straightened himself up to his full height and looked at her coldly:  
  
“Ron sent me to apologize.”  
  
Of course, no lies, Hermione thought to herself bitterly, he was too arrogant to bother. As hard as it was to admit, Draco Malfoy had never lied to her, he simply chose to keep some things from her and she knew in his books that made all the difference. But it didn’t make her hate him any less. He took everything that was worth  _anything_  from her and her fingers  _itched_  to make him pay. Still… she promised. And she had a life to go back to, as wretched as it was at the moment. She wouldn’t throw it all away for a few moments of satisfaction of hexing the bastard into an early grave.  
  
“As far as I’m concerned, you did what he asked of you,” she spoke as coldly as she could. “I don’t know what Ron is thinking, but you know as well as I do, I can’t forgive you and I never will. Now, be kind enough – or at least smart enough, as I’m sure Malfoys are inherently incapable of kindness – to get the hell out of my office, before I forget myself and risk everything I’ve achieved for the few short moments of doubtless pleasure  _hurting_  you would bring me!”  
  
By the end, her words were nothing short of a scream and Draco has never seen her lose he composure this much. It surprised him and it made him take a good hard look at her. Rather than a brilliant and powerful witch, however livid, Hermione Granger Weasley looked mostly and above all  _hurt_. She aged in these last few weeks more than she had in the previous decade and suddenly she looked older, much older than her 25. The sleepless nights and tireless work were getting to her and the recent events did nothing for her appearance. Surely she was angry, yes, but Draco was pretty certain she was also sad and lonely and scared. It must have been a special kind of hell for her to lose so abruptly what she once took for granted – her two best friends, the love of a husband who was always there for her, the functional – at least in appearance – family life. She went from feeling secure, prosperous and happy to standing alone. And suddenly Ron’s request to apologize made sense. He would, but he had no intention of crawling. He’d rather make her understand. Malfoy style, of course.  
  
“I’m sure you’re used to doing the very minimum of what Ron asks of you, to shut him up and have things run your way, but I’m afraid you can’t make this decision for me,” he spoke in a calm cold voice. “I promised your husband – I hope not one for much longer – to do the best I can and I fully intend to live up to my word. Only the best for Ron, Granger. Nothing else would do,” he said with a small provoking smile and saw her go pale. He must have rubbed at a sore spot, because her eyes positively lit with rage and she got up from behind her desk abruptly. Good, the beast was out of the woods, now he needed to tread carefully. And quickly, Minister or not, the woman was clearly ready to strike.  
  
“I believe someone needs to be reminded of their promise to hear me out, yes?” He looked at her sharply, when she stopped dead in her track, clearly torn between her desire to hex him back to the age of the good ol’ Salazaar and her promise to her husband. Her sense of honour was the only thing that stood between her and Draco’s demise and the blond knew it was a feeble shield if the powerful witch really got mad. He hoped it was going to be enough, what he had to say wasn’t going to be easy on her. Ron was  _so_  going to pay for this…. Well, best grab the bull by the horns!  
  
“Ron believes my intention was not to hurt you. Well, he is  _wrong_. I meant to hurt you, it was every bit deliberate and I gloated in your pain. I will say that much, because I’ve learned an important lesson during the last few days: honesty will get you everywhere when Gryffindors are involved. However, as much as I enjoyed every moment of your humiliation, it was not my primary objective, just a welcome side-effect. You see, I’ve loved Ron for ages. And ages. In fact, I can hardly remember a time when I wasn’t crazy about him, though, admittedly, it took me a while before I recognised my feelings for what they’ve become. Most of the time I just thought the guy was driving me positively insane, something I’m sure you can relate to.  Either way: hate him, or love him, my world has been rotating around him in more ways than you can imagine and yet – I had nothing to show for it. You got to have it all. And I  _hated_  you for it.”  
  
He looked her straight in the eyes at those words and saw pure undiluted loathing give way to a spark of understanding.  
  
“I hated you as I’m sure you hate me right now. You’ve always had it all: his attention, his friendship, just being around him, touching him, holding him, loving him… And it drove me insane. And insanely mad. Mad at you, mad at Potter, but mostly at you. Half of that “Mudblood” thing I wouldn’t let go off spurned out of my hatred for you, not as a person with no known magical ancestry – I’m not my father and I  _do_  know better - but as someone who had what I wanted most and could never have. And he gave you his all. Even his hand in marriage in the end. And much like that fool Potter, you went and threw it all away, because, again, much like that bespectacled idiot, you took  _him_  for granted. And for what, Granger? For your ambition? You’re on top now and isn’t it a lonely place to be? So I don’t hate you anymore, I have no use for it, but I don’t pity you either. You had your chance and you blew it, now it’s my turn to show this man how it feels to be loved.”  
  
“How dare you talk about love, snake!” Hermione’s wrath exploded with such unexpected force that the blond instinctively took a step back to put some distance between them and his fingers gripped around the holder of his wand with renewed strength. “You wouldn’t know love if it jumped upon you like a Dementor and kissed you on the mouth, you slimy git! Love makes you do grand, wonderful, selfless things and you wouldn’t know how to spell these words if your life depended on it! You forget I saw what was in your head and it has nothing to do with love!  
  
It’s an obsession, you lunatic, probably a dangerous sort and I’ll make sure Ron is properly warned! You’re hardly more than a demented pervert, stalking him like that, collecting the scraps of his life as a love-sick teenager! I’ve seen that place you’ve got, before you pushed me out of your mind; it took me a while, but it just dawned on me this morning what I’ve seen. The broken wand, his first broom, all those pictures… What in Morgana’s good name is wrong with you, to hold on to a place like this?! What are you, 12?! That’s not true love, you fool, that’s just you trying to make some sense of your pointless existence, you spoilt rich brat, and you fancy yourself in love for a change. And to think you’ve destroyed all our lives for something so worthless….”  
  
“Shut up!!!” The deafening roar that broke out of Draco’s throat might as well not have been his own and she literally jumped, instinctively grabbing her wand and pointing it at him. And for a good reason. His eyes were ablaze with infernal hatred, the wrath in his eyes unmasked, looking every bit ready to erupt and the way he had  _bellowed_  at her… But when her wand really began to tremble, was when she looked, really  _looked_  into those blazing eyes, silver with out-of-this-world glow. She’s never seen so much pain in anyone’s eyes and for a moment there she had a fleeting thought she perhaps deserved to get hexed if she was the cause of such overwhelming distress.  
  
Draco’s chest was heaving as if he’d just run miles and his self-control, such an inherent part to his appearance, was no where to be seen. What she saw in front of her was a very angry, very hurt young man and suddenly she was able to see him the way Ron hopelessly tried to convey: not a Slytherin, not her childhood bully, not a spoilt rich brat, but a real flesh-and-blood young man, much too young to have so much pain in his eyes, much stronger than she ever took him to be. She suddenly realized how much his arrogance concealed, for a moment she got a glimpse of what was underneath – and it made her shiver. And then he began to talk. Hard and cold and somehow still full of passion.  
  
“You think because you’re smart you get to hurt people?! Is that what you did to him, to your marriage? Put Ron down, belittled him, bullied him into submission, into surrender with your superior intelligence and vocabulary? Well, I’ve got news for you Granger – you can’t do that to me, because this is the one game we both know  _you_   _already lost_. You’ve beaten  _yourself_  this time, I had but a minor part to play. Game over, bitch. But just for the record, just because you think you know it all: what the fuck do you think you’ve seen in my head?! How do you even presume you saw anything I didn’t want you to see?! How can you assume to interpret anything you might have seen?! You, of all people, who is the least equipped to judge anyone’s misery?! You, who always had, and got, anything a living human could ever want – and yet you managed to gamble it all away! Of course, you’ve still got your brain, your wonderful mind you’re so proud of – but  _do_ tell me, Granger, what good is it now, when it lost you a heart you should treasure above all?”  
  
He looked at her piercingly with those silver eyes, for once not full of his usual arrogance, but with cold cutting straight-forwardness and the truth behind his words hurt more than any pretence of superiority might have. She wanted to retort so badly, tell him, he was wrong, that it was all  _his_  fault that her life was a mess, but unexpectedly the tears pooled up in her eyes and the words would not come. They would merely break her voice, show her weakness and she could barely keep herself standing straight as it was. But clearly, it was not his purpose to further gloat in her misery, he had merely established that he was getting his point across and he continued, seemingly unaffected by her unwavering wand still pointed at him:  
  
“As l’ve already said – I’m here to live up to my promise to Ron and I don’t like to waste my time, so let me tell you a few things about myself, Granger, before you so recklessly take a right to judge me again.”  
  
He paused for a second, as if what he was about to say wasn’t in tune with his character and then he spoke nevertheless, his voice quiet, but determined:  
  
“I was raised to have no heart. I was raised to ignore it if it meant it could stand in a way of my ambition. I come from a long line of men who married the right person, made the right alliances, fathered a son, did what was expected of them, ruthlessly driving over any inconvenient inappropriate emotion they had in the process. And I tried so desperately to be that man, to be what my father, my family expected me to be. Ever had a sword of your parents’ ambition and expectation hung low above your neck? No? I didn’t think so. What your parents wanted for you was probably to be happy. And somehow you managed to fuck that up as well, so perhaps you  _do_  know how I feel after all…  
  
Mine was the world of “do”s and “don’t”s, a constant struggle of keeping just the right balance, just the right appearance, making just the right alliances, all the right choices that were to ensure my proper place in the world I was born into. I’m sure I would have been properly content with it in time. Not happy. But content. And then a miracle happened. My miracle. Ron. A total chaos to my existence.”  
  
Draco’s voice got so unexpectedly soft and warm, the light in his eyes changed to a much softer shade of silver and she suddenly caught a glimpse of the man Ron was seeing behind the perfectly polished exterior:  
  
“Ron. Ronald. Even the name was all wrong. That is  _not_  a good pureblood name. Not in the least. But that’s all he’s about. He… from the very beginning he knocked down everything I was raised to believe in; he, in one person, was everything I was taught to despise: dirt-poor, not brilliant in any way, a son of a blood traitor, insecure - nothing about his name, magic or appearance worth remembering, keeping around or using. But I didn’t see him this way.  
  
I saw fire. I saw passion. I saw life; beautiful, raw, untamed life I’ve never seen in anyone else before. I saw warmth I never knew. I was drawn like a moth into the flame to those blue eyes, I couldn’t get enough of the light in them, I had to keep seeing it, I kept coming for it like a man, dying of thirst, to the wonderful cool fresh water. My fingers itched to sink into that silken warm hair, glowing with its own flame, my fucking dick got hard just thinking about those treacherous freckles sprinkled all over him like stardust, hating them and loving them at the same time. And I was only 11 when I first had those crazy confusing feelings and I was so fucked up, so tied up in my own prejudice and upbringing that I couldn’t recognise them for what they were. I loved him from the day I met him and I never knew… I just knew I kept craving his presence and I told myself I hated him, it was my duty to hate him and make his life miserable. Surely, father would have wanted it. He hated the Weasleys, that man, he still does. So I kept hanging around him until one day, some time during that god-awful Triwizard Tournament, it hit me and I knew.  
  
It was like a bludger to the stomach when I realized what I really felt and it devastated me. Of course, there was nothing I could do. He hated me and I hated myself for falling for him so foolishly, for being so bloody helpless. Believe me, I’ve tried  _everything_  to fall out of this love that could never be. In the end I ended up fucking anyone  _other_  than him, as long as they’ve spiked my interests - but somehow I always seemed to pick the ones that reminded me of him in this way or another. And I tried fucking  _him_  up at every opportunity just to give him a scent of my own feeling of helplessness and make him spill some of that boiling passion on me, whatever form it took. God, those times were cruel! Whoever goes about the school years being the best of one’s life must have been obliviated; I can’t think of three bright days in a row, can’t think of anything that would give me hope in those fucking brutal teenage years I fell into so unprepared! I have no idea how it would have ended, I as sure as hell didn’t have any way out of that bloody cycle of unrequited love and mutual abuse - and then the war happened…”  
  
And suddenly the soft glow in his eyes was gone and it was as if a door to his soul has closed in front of Hermione’s very eyes, that’s just how dark and full of despair his grey orbs had suddenly become.  
  
“Before I knew it, I found myself on the wrong side of it; victim of my parents’ lunatic ambition and my Aunt Bellatrix insane fixation on the Dark Lord and his power; hostage in my own home, the threat of harm being inflicted onto me a constant sword over my poor foolish parents’ necks, who realized much too late what monster they’ve aided to power. Hate my parents all you like, but even you can’t think they’d  _ever_  be purposefully dim-witted enough to support someone that would place the heir to the Malfoy line in danger – they just didn’t realize they had, until it was too late. Sometimes I think my mother might have had a hunch about it, but she was always a tad too ambitious and far too infatuated with my father to stop that man from pulling us all under. I can’t blame her. I know what love can do to one’s mind and heart.  
  
I wouldn’t wish what I had to go through in those times on my worst enemy, not even on you, Granger. You’ve spent what? – 2 hours in the company of my lovely criminally insane aunt? – I’ve spent months in that house of horrors! The things I’ve seen… the screams I still can’t get rid off, echoing in my ears in the black of the night… the things I was forced to endure… the things I was made to do… all those people… helpless… faultless… screaming endlessly and then going still… over and over again… piles and piles of them, literally…  
  
But nothing, absolutely nothing, none of the horrors compared even remotely to the moment when he embraced me… That man, that creature, the darkest of them all, defiled me with his embrace and when it all went black around me, I smelled the decay and the rot of hell… I thought I’d never get rid of that smell, I used to scrub myself raw and bloody for months to get that smell out of my skin and when I’m in the worst, I still smell it, smell him on myself… And the cold… I thought I’d never be warm again, not in this lifetime… I still sometimes wake up shivering, feeling his grave-cold bones close around me and squeeze all light out of me…”  
  
Closing his eyes, he stopped abruptly, unable to continue, and Hermione’s wand tumbled to the ground. She never thought she could ever feel anything other than contempt and anger towards the haughty blond, but there she was, feeling downright sorry for the man. He was ashen white and tiny pearls of sweat shone on his upper lip - and suddenly he looked as old as grave. But then his eyes flickered open, silver glow in them unwavering, his look hard, grey and determined to go through with what he came here to say - and for the first time in her life Hermione Granger found appreciation for the Slytherin resilience.  
  
“And all this time I was as far away from Ron as I could imagine. My mind was so dark back then I couldn’t imagine I’d ever see him again. I wouldn’t want to, not rationally, not under the circumstances I was forced to live in, if you can call such a miserable existence life. But my heart desperately craved it. It was in those times that I created a shelter you’ve glimpsed in my head. Surely, to you it might seem like a madman’s cave, like a work of a man possessed, but believe me, it was a life-saver. More by chance than knowledge I’ve stumbled upon a secret compartment adjoined to my bedroom – undoubtedly a safe haven for one of the previous heirs of the house.  
  
I was desperate to get away from my crazy aunt whose greatest kink proved out to be making me torture the newcomers – and I’ve somehow triggered the door to the hidden place to open and no man alive was ever so happy to have found a shelter. When I figured out she couldn’t find me, no one could, actually, it seemed to be aligned only to work with the magic of the heir of the Malfoy line or some such rot, I spent my every free moment hiding inside of those walls. I knew I was expected at… certain activities… after all, meals in the Manor had become a very… eventful and equally horrifying occasion… but apart from that – I was gone. And it irritated my aunt to no end and it added line after line to my mother’s face, worrying about me like she did, not knowing where I was and which one of the deranged lunatics roaming the Manor I might be with – but I couldn’t tell her, I’ve seen with my own eyes how decomposing hours of prolonged torture can be to a person and I just couldn’t risk it.  
  
That place… it was my only true home, my own tiny island of peace and sanity in the ocean of brutal madness I was lost at. So I made it into my little heaven, decorating it with everything my heart thrived in. It proved out to be him, Ron, only him. I had nothing else to hold on to. My mind went through a million scenarios of where he was and what he was up to; there was no end to my desperate dreams and wishful thinking, to my regrets of how I had treated him… it was all I had. I got myself a pensive and I’d watch my treasured memories for hours, sometimes laughing like a madman, sometimes howling empty tears into the echoing room… I’d spent hours in there and I even surprised myself how inventive I could be in collecting some of the stuff you’ve seen in my mind. You’re right – I was obsessed; after all this was the only thing that kept me clinging onto the life so miserable, I would have thrown in the towel time ago if it wasn’t for a thought of another thing I could get my hands on; just a tiny newspaper scraping about his presumed whereabouts one day, a piece of his Quidditch equipment the next – and it was enough to make me go on.  
  
We do what we have to, to survive, Granger, I’m sure you can understand that part, and somehow my mind decided the only way for me to keep on going was to focus on Ron. And my heart followed gladly. Let it never be said that my obsession was not founded in love; I love that man past the upbringing I have, past the fact that we’re both men and something like this is unheard of in my world, past him being on another side of the spectrum of everything I was supposed to want and expect in life – I simply love him, I do.”  
  
He looked her straight in the eye at those words and the truth in those silver orbs was undeniable. Draco Malfoy was without a doubt in love with her husband – and suddenly she realized she could not even hate him for it anymore. Instead her heart was almost sore with compassion for him, for everything he had endured - but she knew that as proud as he was, he would reject it fiercely if she ever attempted to bring it forward. So she said nothing, she merely nodded with a lump in her throat, but he didn’t even seem to acknowledge that, a look in his eyes suddenly so distant as if he was not really seeing anything besides the memories in his head, his voice uneven and rasp as if even remembering brought remnants of pain back into this moment.  
  
“And then he came. The Snatchers had brought the lot of you into the Manor and he stepped out of my cherished dreams straight into the nightmare I was living - and it almost destroyed me. He looked at me across the room at one point, I’m sure he doesn’t even remember, but I’ll never forget…  There was no hatred in his eyes for the first time since I’ve known him, just a desperate plea for help and it tore me apart like nothing else ever could. He wasn’t supposed to be there, none of you were, for fuck’s sake, but I only cared about him. The few hours you’ve spent in there were probably the worst in my life. My mind worked feverishly to find a way to get him out of there and every feeling I ever had about him, returned with a vengeance: I realized him I loved him so desperately I was willing to put myself in harm’s way to protect him and I had never before felt anything like that for anyone. Not even for my parents.  
  
So when a chance occurred, I did the only thing there was left for me to do – I let Potter take my wand, rendering myself completely defenceless. I had to put up a show of fighting for it, of course, but even he must have felt that I was not doing it full-heartedly. Unfortunately, so did the Dark Lord and I was severely punished for that.  
  
I was… damaged and ill for a long time after that and the one thing that actually saved my life was the fact that attendance to Hogwarts became mandatory to all pure-blood students and since the Dark Lord issued the order himself, he had to give into my mother’s pleading and let me go. That beast was all about illusions, so keeping up appearance of structure and order when really, there was nothing than chaos of his sick demented wishes – well, that became my life-line. I don’t think I would have survived much longer in the Manor, my aunt Bella was livid with me for having let down her worshiped Master and thus looked for every opportunity to harm me.  
  
And that’s where our lives briefly collided again, Granger. The battle of Hogwarts happened and that part you know. But do you know what I remember best from it, other than being reunited with my parents? I got to see him, Ron, again. There he was, punching me in the face, screaming at me that you’d saved my life twice in a day - and where he hit me, my skin became so wonderfully warm as if he branded me with his fire, his passion and it was the first of warmth I felt since I first laid eyes on that foul dark creature that destroyed our childhood. It gave me hope there was salvation for me somewhere down the road, that there will once be a time when I will no longer be cold, alone, stuck in the shoes of a man I didn’t want to be, yearning desperately for someone I could never have. Because he looked at me, when he hit me, all boiling anger and contempt, but he acknowledged me like he only knew how and I knew that in spite of despising the very scent of me, he would never be indifferent towards me. And I chose to find even hope in that.  
  
It gave me the strength to withstand the trial, the public humiliation, the festivities surrounding your, the Golden Trio’s double wedding and eventually picking up on the gossip that he was screwing Potter as well, the miserable mockery of marriage my beloved father inflicted on me – at least something good had come out of that, because I have a son now, Granger, and I love him fiercely.”  
  
The bright smile that lightened the blond’s face at those words was such a rare occurrence that Hermione barely recognised the features underneath it – gone was the cold narrow face with harsh eyes she remembered from her youth, the smile had transferred his pretty face into that of a smart looking young man with light in his eyes and an unmistakeable expression of childish pride and unconditional love that might as well be her own when she talked about her children. Draco Malfoy undoubtedly loved his son and that love resonated through every word when he spoke about him.  
  
“He is the sweetest thing on the planet and I intend to keep him that way. He is my little confidant, he’s the only one I ever introduced to the shelter I still keep at the Manor. You see, I can’t stand it to ever stay there, not over night at least – but I can’t deny my parents their role in bringing up their grandson, the heir to the Malfoy name. My wife is… incompetent, to put it lightly and for one, I trust my mother implicitly with raising my son according to my wishes – she knows very well I would walk away and never look back if they ever tried to raise him the way I was brought up. Her instructions on the matter are very clear and I have another… creature - well, I suppose you would call him a person – watching over my son, just in case my father got any bizarre ideas how the pureblood children should be raised properly. Trust me, I would find out immediately, I have paid for my lessons dearly.  
  
But I would never be able to go near the Manor without knowing there was a shelter for me there; a safe-spot where I would be free of the bad memories should I ever suffer a flashback of all the horrors that took place there – unfortunately, in the years that followed the war, that was a common occurrence. So once during a particularly nasty episode of having a sudden onslaught of most unpleasant memories, my son – my Scorpius - followed me to the room in question - and he was fascinated. You see, he’s also an heir and the room opened to him with no reservations. I told him this is the place daddy comes to dream and he didn’t question me. I told him stories about the boy on the pictures, legends really, about his horrible malfunctioning wand and the adventures he went on with his two best friends, the boy with the mysterious mark and the super-smart witch, and how he had nothing when he was little and became everything when he grew up – and I think its because of those stories he understands and knows me better than most adults do by now.  
  
So one day he asked me, if the boy was ever real or if he only lived in the stories – which, in my humble opinion, is uncommonly astute for his age – so I told him that the boy was real and that he was no longer a boy, but a man now. Then he went on to ask me, how I knew all these stories and I told him I knew him since he was a boy and his eyes got at big as the moon. The next thing out of his mouth was:  _Can he come and live with us?_  And it hurt, Granger. How on Merlin’s bloody earth was I supposed to tell him the man he came to idolize hated me?!  
  
He loves that room and I think he might love the man it is about almost as much as I do. He can hardly go to sleep without a story of Ronnie and his friends, and one of their adventures. I think his favourite one is the story on how they saved daddy from the fire-dragon and he falls asleep with a smile on his face every time they conquer the beasts and the world is a safe place again. I can’t bear to think he would ever know any different. You might think me an imbecile for trying to protect my son from the world he will eventually have to enter and which will be none too gentle to the heir to a family of renown Death Eaters – but I don’t have a heart to break down his little Universe with a glimpse of reality, not just yet. I’m willing to do my best to let that boy keep his innocence and his dreams for as long as he can.  
  
So I told him - ” Draco stopped, as if he was hesitating and when he finally looked at her, Hermione noticed that, surprisingly enough, there was a guilty look in his eyes . “I told him never to tell another person about that room and about that man, because daddy’s dreams could come to an end and we would never see that man again - but if he kept our secret long enough, the man from the stories would step out of my dreams once and come and live with us. And he can’t wait for that day, Granger; I know he can’t, because he asks me about it every night when I tuck him in. And every day I just wanted to hex myself for lying to him about it and giving him hope where there was none – right until my fortunes turned and I found myself in that corridor where with your husband and Potter snogging and my feeble plan was born. It was never much of a chance, but I’ve done my waiting, endless tiresome hopeless years of it, and I was desperate.  
  
I don’t know how much of the rest you know, if you haven’t kept contact with Ron, so here it is, in a nutshell: They never stopped doing it - shagging, that is - Potter wouldn’t let Ron go – but he wouldn’t let go of his family either. So Ron finally had enough and tried putting some distance between them therefore he filed for transfer – and I made sure he got me as a partner instead. Of course Potter got livid and even more so when I managed to… persuade Ron, somewhat clumsily, I admit, that I practically worship the floor he stands on – well, not with these words, as you might imagine – and he agreed to a dinner with me. A very spectacular dinner you can read – oh, you probably  _have_  already read all about in that impossible rag The Prophet is these days - except it’s all a bunch of crap, dictated by Potter. He followed us there,  _wife in trail,_ imagine that, and tried to secure Ron to himself, howling about me being a poisonous selfish bastard. Except when Ron made him choose with his wife on the edge of horizon, he didn’t come out as so selfless himself. He couldn’t do it and Ron knew it. So he chose me instead, kissed me in front of everyone and everything and I couldn’t wait, Granger, I couldn’t wait to be able to show the whole bloody world who it was that I longed for.  
  
Now, that was yesterday and please don’t ask me if I used whatever potion or illegal charm on him to make him fall for me so fast, you’re far too intelligent for that. I guess there was just something underneath it, underneath all those violent emotions going back and forth between us for years, that did it for both of us and believe me, I wouldn’t have thought in a million years that my dreams would come true practically over night. I mean, I know I’m a catch, of course I bloody well am, even married and all – but Ron… he could have anyone he wanted and I’m as unlikely a choice he was ever going to make. He’s a bloody war hero; your - the Minister’s - husband and the Saviours best friend – and a fucking sex on two feet at that! I was… I’m still somewhat stunned by it.”  
  
And his eyes showed it, Hermione couldn’t deny that. He had awe in his eyes, almost a childish disbelief and she never thought she’d ever say something like that about Draco Malfoy, but he looked almost innocent and certainly very vulnerable, when he spoke next, a barely detectable uncertainty lingering in his voice.  
  
“I keep on thinking that perhaps I will wake up and this will all be just an elaborate wonderful dream that will leave me more empty and drained of hope than ever before. It wouldn’t be a first, I dream about him, about us all the time. But this… seems real, especially the part where the whole bloody world is against us. So… now you know and I still haven’t done what he sent me in to do – apologize.”  
  
He looked her straight in the eye at these words, once more a proper Malfoy, stern face and unreadable grey eyes, and spoke:  
  
“I hope that by now you understand why I did what I did and you should know that I fully understand what I’m taking from you. And for that – I apologize. If someone took Ron from me, the way I helped take him from you – I would have been livid and desperate and  _murderous_  beyond belief. There is no saying what I would do and most certainly an apology wouldn’t have stopped me from doing it. But you’re not me, Granger. Ron trusts you and your ability to understand and forgive beyond belief. You’re like a Saint in his eyes when it comes to showing support and compassion and though I’ll fully understand if you can’t stand the sight of me after today, I think he’ll be let down.  
  
I think it’s too late to say that I don’t want any bad blood between us, but I would appreciate it if you learnt how to tolerate or at least ignore me, while he’s around, because I plan to stay around him for a very  _very_  long time, possibly forever. If he’ll have me. I’m a hard man to stick by and I come with a lot of baggage, my family, my reputation, my upbringing being just some of those – but I’ll do anything to keep that man. I know good stuff when I see it and men just don’t get any better than Ron.”  
  
He finally said his last words and silence fell heavy between them. He still stared her straight in the face, shoulders stiff and chin up as if expecting a blow, looking so much like his father than she almost pitied him. He really couldn’t leave himself behind, could he, no matter how hard he tried.  
  
“You’re right about that,” she finally broke the silence and made her wand fly back into her hand. “He’s the best there is and though harsh, there’s a lot of truth about what you’ve said today. Our marriage was doomed from the start because I couldn’t let him be enough. I always thought I was born to be more than just a wife – though that was never his purpose for me, it was his idea to stop at two children and go on with my career – and I didn’t see it, I didn’t see  _him_ , as important outside of our family. But he is, he… was. He was everything: my home to come to, my partner when I needed someone to back me up, a very good listener when I wanted to get something off my chest, my lover – well, I imagine at least you know that part by now, he is… exceptionally talented in that department, for all the clumsiness he had as a teenager.”  
  
She smiled as the distant memory swept through her mind and before she realized, there were tears running down her face.  
  
“Oh, bugger…” she whispered and turned around, unwilling to make a complete idiot out of herself in front of her husband’s – well, practically her ex-husband now – new boyfriend. But she was not able to stop, no matter how hard she tried. And when the long white fingers gently touched her shoulder and a handkerchief was pushed in the palm of her hand – she sobbed even harder. She cried for everything she had lost so foolishly and she cried for him, for Draco Malfoy and his sorrow, because he couldn’t… and she cried even for her hatred and anger as she had lost those as well and now there was nothing holding her together.  
  
 And not once did he attempt to hold her; a Malfoy to the bone, he just stood there and quietly waited for her tears to stop and there was a strange comfort, a strange point of focus and stability in that. For all that he had endured and all the damage he had done, he came to stand there in front of her, coming clean, fully aware of how much harm she could do to him, to them both – and she couldn’t help but admire his courage - or perhaps it was arrogance - that kept him together. For the coward little git he had been as a child, he became a man who could stand remarkably solid.  
  
And she realized she would never fully understand the phenomenon that was Draco Malfoy. His perspective of the war chilled her to the bone, she knew there must have been unhealed damage left under that polished cool exterior - and yet he stood there, talking of it candidly, when so many couldn’t. She knew very well what strength of character that took, but then again, he was a Malfoy, perhaps his ability to stand tall in the face of misfortune was a given...  
  
Except she had also caught a glimpse to another side of him, the one she would never associate with his family name and it came even more of a surprise to her than his solid core did: he had become a man who loved fiercely and for that alone he deserved Ron, he was the only one who did. Fire for fire – it must have rocked Ron’s world to find out how desperately desired and passionately loved he was – after all, that was everything he looked for in a person he wanted to share his life with. And Draco Malfoy was the one, she could sense that from where she was standing, even with her back turned against him. He had strength and resilience about him, but so did Harry and herself; what set him apart was his dedication to love Ron with no reservations. No “if”s and “but”s applied, he had put everything on the line to reach out to him and she didn’t have it in her to stand in their way. True love, wasn’t that all everyone yearned for? For all her sensibility, she was always a bit of a romantic.  
  
And she wouldn’t put them through more hardship to get revenge, she was bigger than that. In comparison to what the Slytherin already went through – the war and all the desperate years of yearning for someone he couldn’t have - her broken heart just didn’t sound like much to whine about. At least she got quite a few years of happiness out of it and much her demise was her own doing. Of course, that hardly made it hurt any less. But she could overcome it – Ron was back in her life as her friend and the fact that he was making his lover apologize, was clear evidence that he still held her interest at heart. With him at her side, she could beat this and rise above it, perhaps even be happy once more, who knew? She had a life to rebuild and hating Malfoy would simply stand in her way of doing so. She wouldn’t risk losing Ron over trying to hurt his man. Besides -  if she looked at the picture in the Prophet quite impartially: they did kind of look very cute together, didn’t they?  
  
 And of course, they would have it hard enough as it was; she suddenly realized she could not think of a single same-sex couple in the wizarding community at the top of her head, who openly lived together as such and a memory of Malfoy’s “unheard of in my world” suddenly surged through her mind, leaving an unpleasant feeling behind. How could she have missed it? In all her quest for all creatures’ rights – how could she have missed that there seemed to be no gay wizards and witches around? Surely, there were, there had to be, but they must have been forced to keep their preferences entirely to themselves in favour of procreation in the diminishing community they’ve become – Merlin knows if it wasn’t even illegal, some of the currently valid wizarding laws were literally straight out of the Middle ages! Something would have to be done about that, she’ll see to it as soon as Malfoy is gone.  
  
Malfoy... She almost forgot about him in the excitement of the new project forming in her mind, but he was still standing there, looking at her with a curious look on his face. He must be expecting some sort of an answer, then. But before she managed to open her mouth, he spoke unexpectedly:  
  
“I suppose we could say I owe you one and the way I see it, you are in bit of a public relation jam at the moment, so perhaps... would you care for an advice?”  
  
That came as a surprise. But then again, the Malfoys were infamously slick when it came to handling unpleasant situations, so perhaps there was value in what he had to say.  
  
“Go ahead, then,” she allowed, though not without caution in her voice. She might have come to terms with him being Ron’s partner of choice, but she would never be able to trust him fully. She also knew he would approve of her caution, he seemed to have a high opinion of her intellect after all.  
  
“First of all, you needn’t worry. Skeeter’s article has got you the sympathy of the entire wizarding community. You are the betrayed wife, the nation’s heroine working hard for the benefit of the wizarding England – and you have been repaid most ungratefully for your efforts. If everything else fails, that is always one image you can fall back to. I know Ron. He will take his share of the blame and never speak of the part you had to play in the demise of your marriage. The chief part of the public scolding goes to me, of course... but I’m used to that, I can’t be bothered with attempts to gain public approval, never could be.  
  
But you could do more. You needn’t be merely a cheated wife; you are in a unique position to place yourself above that and make a step further down the road of progress. In fact – it might even be expected of you, the way I see it. You are, without a doubt, the most progressive and reform-oriented Minister the English wizarding world has ever had throughout the history and this is your chance to make another mark. I was approached by a young man earlier, shyly expressing his support to my relationship with Ron, as well as his frustration in facing his own unwelcome feelings towards the same sex. He had nowhere to go, Granger, no one to talk to, because no one talks about these things. Everybody knows it’s there, but it’s as big a taboo as you’re ever going to stumble upon. Even the word to describe it is not there – “gay” has a far more traditional meaning in the wizarding world.  
  
You are Muggle-born, perhaps you are unaware of that, but there is no place for gay wizards in our community, none out in the open. Of course, there are... activities, expertly masked under a cover of this establishment or another, but these aren’t accessible to everyone and some are downright seedy, a proper hunting grounds for all kinds of sexual predators. And you could be the one to change all that. You single-handedly changed the wizarding position towards the house-elves, why not this? I’m not asking that you support our relationship publicly, that’s entirely up to you and I don’t know if even  _your_  heart is quite  _that_  generous, but you could mention it, that besides leaving you hurt, the reason for the  _amicable_ parting of your ways with your estranged husband has also got you  _thinking_... Thinking about change. And from there on, Granger, the world is yours. Do your magic, make it a better place.”  
  
The small smug smile in the corner of his mouth did not really come as a surprise, but feeling her own mouth stretch out of its own accord to mirror it certainly came as a shock to herself. What a snake! He really knew how to play this game, didn’t he? And come to think he all but called  _her_  manipulative! She was almost sorry for Ron, forfeiting his life to this man, he might think himself in control  _now_ , but given time...  
  
“You really are a smug slick bastard, Malfoy,” she managed and this time she saw his face split in a genuine biggest self-appreciative grin she ever saw on a living being. A cat having devoured a nest of mice could not have been happier with herself.  
  
“One does one’s best, Granger,” he said, not even bothering sounding humble. “Are we good, then? Surely, Ron will want to know how it went and I would very much like your answer. I do not fancy hearing I didn’t try hard enough.”  
  
“Oh, you did well enough,” she said quietly. “You can let Ron know your apology has been accepted. We might never be friends, Malfoy, there’s too much history between us for that, but I believe I can handle your presence... providing it’s not too often. Just promise, you’ll take good care of him!” she looked him in the eye and a single nod told her he had heard her and all the implications in her voice should he fail in that task.  
  
With his hand already on the door-knob he turned around once more and looked at her solemnly:  
  
“And Granger... thank you.” When he saw a surprised glimpse in her eyes, he said quietly: “I was never your biggest fan but I can’t forget you helped build the world in which my son is safe from blind hatred and mindless violence. And I never got to thank you for that, so I guess now it is as good a time as any, hence – thank you.”  
  
And for some reason that sort of recognition from a haughty young man, who always acted as her better, created a lump in her throat.  
  
“You’re welcome,” she said quietly and watched him leave. Ron could have made a worse choice of a partner. Much worse.  
  
Once outside the door, Draco Malfoy leaned with his full weight on the door-frame. He was exhausted. The encounter with the bloody woman, making him face all his demons at once, had been draining. Only now he allowed the full shock of what he put himself through settle in and his hands began shaking so badly he rolled his eyes up at his own weakness and mumbled to himself: “Oh, for fuck’s sake, get a hold of yourself, Malfoy, or get a fucking job sugar-coating doughnuts!”  
  
 But he couldn’t deny how wretched he felt. He hadn’t expected it, having to give up so much of himself when he went in there, but this was for Ron and he was worth it. He had promised his best and let no one say Draco Malfoy did anything half-way when it came to keeping Ron Weasley happy. But now the ginger bastard owed him, he owed him big and he better make good on that promise he saw lurking inside those alluring blue eyes! And Draco would make sure he gets his payment. With interest. What good was it being a Malfoy, if you couldn’t squeeze ever last bit and then some of a mere Gryffindor! But right now, he needed to rest. The sleepless night, the turbulent morning – it had all caught up with him at once and he barely felt up to apparating all by himself. He was so tired he only managed to spare a fleeting thought as to where Ron was; surely the redhead would find him eventually, there were perks to having an accomplished Auror for a boyfriend. Right now, he needed his beauty sleep and he would get it; after all, he had to knock the breath out of that gorgeous bastard paying for his dinner!


	11. The home is where the heart is

“I saw him today.”  
  
Bill Weasley might as well have dropped a grenade in the middle of their lunch table. Molly Weasley gasped and dropped her knife, while her husband’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth, Percy immediately removed his glasses and began cleaning the lenses nervously and even George, with a lifetime of mischief behind him, stopped chewing on his lamb chop, raised an eyebrow and looked his brother straight in the face with no small amount of amusement: “This should be interesting…”  
  
But the first proper reaction came from Ginny, who glared at her oldest brother with nothing short of hatred glowing in her eyes and hissed: “Traitor! How dare you…”  
  
But she didn’t come far with her hate-tirade; her mother finally recovered her wits about and the words poured out of her mouth with eagerness and speed that alone testified how long she’s kept her stifled feelings to herself:  
  
“Sweet Rowena and Morgana, how _is_ he?! Has he been eating properly?! He looks awfully pale on those Prophet pictures! My poor baby, being lead astray by that horrible Malfoy devil like that! Has he mentioned us? He _can’t_ still be angry at me about that Howler, can he? Why doesn’t he call? What goes around that silly boy’s head, I’ll never know…”  
  
“Mom!!” Bill nearly had to howl to get her attention and his father got up and put his hands around his wife calmingly. And Molly Weasley, as fierce a creature as she was, needed it. The tears had already welled up in her eyes and her hands were pressed against her chest as if she was trying to contain her bursting heart inside.  
  
“Relax, Molly, dear, I’m sure Bill will explain everything any moment now, though I’m sure he could have picked a  _better_ time than the family lunch,” he looked at his son with reproach, though not entirely unkindly – he knew better than anyone how much Molly craved knowledge, any information at this point, of her unruly youngest son. Ever since that impossible business with Harry came to light, Ron has been a silent ghost at their family table and Arthur knew how heavy his absence bore down on his wife and how very miserable it made her. He alone had been privy to the full depth of her distress after they lost Fred and now this…  
  
He knew that his wife, as strong as she was, couldn’t handle the loss of another child and Ron, of all her children, had always kept her tethering at the edge of her sanity with his mad adventures. And just when they all thought he settled down with Hermione, whom they all adored and were exceptionally proud to welcome into family – home comes Ginny one day, crying like a banshee about Ron having an affair –  _an affair_ , of all things, as if crazy life-threatening adventures weren’t enough for their frayed nerves! – with Harry – of all people! - and that Ron left Hermione, but wouldn’t promise to leave Harry alone… In short, it was all such a bloody mess Arthur didn’t know what to make of it and he was surprised that the family continued to function as it did!  
  
He supposed it was no small thanks to Harry, who clearly repented and apologized to everyone for putting them in such an awkward position and he couldn’t understand George, who got up after his little speech and told Harry  _“You’re a fool, Potter, you know that?”_  before he left abruptly. Surely Harry did the right thing! Arthur had never even heard of such a thing as a “relationship” between men! There were things, of course…  talk and gossip one picked up after a night of drinking, making it obvious that such… activities existed, but it mortified him to think his own son and his son-in-law engaged in such a wretched thing! He couldn’t… he  _wouldn’t_  imagine how it all went down between them, it just made him extremely uncomfortable, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking why…  
  
Why would two perfectly normal looking healthy young men, who had everything one could ever want in life – loving wives, lovely children, highly prominent jobs – risk it all for something as obnoxious an affair?! It bothered him to no end and for his part he just wanted to look his son in the eye and ask him that question. He couldn’t do it to Harry. Harry, as much as he loved him, was not his flesh and blood. He had no right.  
  
He must have thought about his youngest son more in the last few weeks since this whole bloody mess exploded in their faces than he did in his entire life until now. Sure, he always worried about him, they all did – being Harry Potter’s friend came with an awfully high price in sleepless nights for a parent. But up until now he always associated Ron’s reckless life with something…  grand… and noble… and exciting; something that made him proud that he could call himself his father. But all this “affair” business… there was no saying how very edgy it made him.  
  
And guilty. Perhaps if he had been around his children more, paid Ron more attention, not only when he was out there, risking his life with Harry and Hermione, but on other occasions as well, in everyday life, not to leave Molly with the sole responsibility to raise him as a decent human being... Perhaps there was something only a father could give to his child, some proper sense of right or wrong, some sense of boundaries… Harry didn’t have a proper dad either, perhaps that was why this all descended on them…  
  
Oh, my, was he ever so lost at this! All he knew at this moment was, that it was entirely too late, out of their hands and beyond repair. This business with Harry had at least been contained within their own family, even Ginny in all her justified wrath had the common sense not to spread the word, but now there was a Malfoy involved and of course the whole foul mess exploded all over the newspapers!  
  
 _A Malfoy_!!! Imagine that! Of all people! What was Ron thinking indeed?! He _knew_ how Malfoys were, how could he ever hope to take this… oh,  _affair_  was such an unfortunate word… how could he hope to take this  _thing_  with the son of devil incarnate, Lucius Malfoy, anywhere?! Malfoys were… well, they were _horrible_ , weren’t they?! At least Lucius was the most obnoxious evil narrow-minded creature to ever draw breath and if Arthur had a choice between offing him or the Dark Lord himself, it would have been a hard take indeed! And he had no grounds to think his son was any different! He had been tormenting Ron throughout all his teenage years and to this day he could not imagine why Harry stood up for the lot of them in the trial and had them all walk free with all but a tap on the wrist!  
  
His Ron, his youngest boy… and that monster’s son! Ron, of all his children, reminded him the most of his younger self. He  _looked_  like a younger echo of Arthur and – save for the proper Prewett temper – he was more of a Weasley than the rest of his children combined. There was boldness and courage underneath his unassuming exterior, but Arthur knew there would also be tenderness and vulnerability that only came out in the most precious of moments.  
  
And Arthur felt as if a cold hand wrapped around his heart and squeezed when he thought that one of his beloved children, his least self-assured son, his Ron, has put himself to the mercy of one Malfoy. Surely the son was no better than the father, how could he be, fathered and bred by Lucius! As sure as death Malfoy youngest will only take what he wants from Ron, rip him apart, chew him up and then smash him like an insignificant bug that found himself in a way of his shoe.  That’s how Malfoy’s worked, dear God, Ron should have known better...  
  
That’s why the Prophet photo had made Arthur almost physically sick; his sweet precious son, so much alike himself, staring with devotion down that pale face that might as well have been Lucius himself twenty years younger! And it didn’t help one bit that George pulled out the blasted newspaper out of his hand, took one long look at it and mumbled: “It serves Potter right… they look in love.”  
  
 _In love!_ His son… in love with Lucius Malfoy’s son… the thought was as unimaginable as it was unbearable. Yet… it seems to have happened. Well, at least  _something_  must have happened, The Prophet was and always will remain the untrustworthy rag! One thing was for sure: Arthur Weasley wanted, no,  _needed_  answers to make his world right again and in this moment he looked at Bill as expectantly as Molly did, though for a different reason. And his oldest son did not disappoint him.  
  
“He wants to come over... and explain... if we’ll have him,” Bill said quietly and looked at his mother almost pleadingly as if the faith of the entire family depended on her words.  
  
Molly’s eager “ _But of course!_ ” overlapped perfectly with Ginny’s fiery “ _Hell, no!_ ” The youngest Weasley had gotten up abruptly, all menace and hardness in her pretty brown eyes, and approached her big brother, with nothing short of a threat radiating from her posture.  
  
“To think you’re behind  _him_  in the wretched matter!” she hissed. “First he attempts to take my husband from me and when that fails, he decides it’s a good idea to drag the family name through the mud by whoring himself  _in public_  to that horrible spoilt Death Eater brat! And all this time you’ve only been pretending to understand, you bastard! Small wonder, of course, that  _you_  should take his side, when we all know that you and Charlie...”  
  
But that was as far as she got, before a loud angry “ _Silencio!_ ” left her agitated mouth moving on empty and Charlie Weasley took a step out of the fireplace and shook soot off his fiery hair.  
  
Bill, as pale as a sheet, got up to his feet so fast he nearly toppled over a table and his breathless “You came...” drowned in a big bear embrace his sturdy brother almost squashed him in.  
  
“Of course I came,” he murmured softly against his brother’s ear and somehow managed to hide a clandestine kiss into the long silken hair. “You called... I came. It’s always been like that with us, Bill. You call, I come,” he said simply and finally let go, just to turn around and stare at the furious face of his baby sister.  
  
“Besides… someone had to shut this rattle down,” he looked at his sister with a wary spark in his eyes, only to see her draw her wand and attempt to throw a hex at him. He heard his parents draw a shocked gasp in unison, but Ginny proved no match for the dragon-minder’s reflexes. He blocked whatever she intended to do with such ease that nothing appeared to have happened, and only when a set of sparks suddenly bounced off of a semi-circular orb surrounding Charlie and Bill it became evident he had used a standard shielding charm.  
  
“Not so good with the non-verbal spells, are we, Ginny?” he asked matter-of-factly, with just a slight undertone of ridicule in his voice. “You still have a thing or two to learn from mom, I reckon. Either way - I wouldn’t try  _that_  welcome on Ron if I were you. He’s a proper Auror, that one; he might forget for a second there that you were his baby sister, the one he went out of his way to  _shelter_  for his entire life – and then, my beautiful sister, you’d be cinder and ashes, he’s none too gentle with people that are after his neck these days – or so I’ve heard.”  
  
And then Charlie’s eyes, the same shade of honey brown as Ginny’s, became uncharacteristically hard:  
  
“Oh – and if I were you, I’d back off from hurting yet another member of your family to keep your pride intact.” His eyes glanced protectively over Bill and softened when he saw a big goofy grin on his favourite brother’s face. “It’s not Bill’s fault – I’m not even sure it’s Ron’s fault entirely – if you couldn’t keep you man’s hands to yourself. With a wench you’ve become, anyone would have run!”  
  
By this time Ginny’s face had become beet red and when she abruptly pushed her wand into the holster and launched at her brother, it was her mother who finally found her wits about and pushed herself between them.  
  
“Well, I never…  _Fight_?! Under my roof!? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, the pair of you! You’re not too old, neither of you, to use Granny’s good old broom on your behinds! Charles Weasley!!” she turned to her second-born and he visibly shrunk from her trademark fists-in-her-sides pose. “Remove the spell from your sister this instant! You will  _not_  fire hexes at each other in your home, I hope I have raised you better than that! Charlie…  _now_!”  
  
Charlie begrudgingly mumbled  _“Finite Incantatem!”_ and as soon as he spoke the last syllable, Molly threw herself around his neck and hugged him fiercely: “You scoundrel! Oh, am I ever so glad to see you!”  
  
In the mean time Arthur wrapped his suddenly sobbing daughter in his arms as a precaution and patted her back soothingly: “There, there… everyone calm down a little… We’re all family. There are other ways to settle this.”  
  
“Still know how to make an entry, I see…” Bill whispered into Charlie’s ear as soon as he managed to free himself from his mother’s overwhelming embrace.  
  
“Shut up… she would have hexed you into potato peels eventually, slow and old as you are,” mumbled Charlie good-naturedly and earned himself a slap on the butt.  
  
“Remind this old man to thank you… in my  _old slow_ way… ” whispered Bill when his hand lingered just a tad too long on his brother’s firm behind, just long enough to feel the charge of magic run down Charlie’s body and have him shiver.  
  
“William Arthur Weasley, I want some answers and I want them now!” his mother interrupted the non-verbal exchange between brothers and Bill smiled at Charlie sheepishly and turned to his mother.  
  
“Of course... I almost forgot. With her ladyship The Drama Queen there,” he pointed at Ginny, “making a fuss and making it all about herself again, and this pillock jumping at me from the fireplace like that,” he looked at Charlie with amusement, “it’s hard to focus on the really important matters.”  
  
“Perhaps you’re right,” his mother said with unexpected thoughtfulness. “Percy, do take Ginny into her room and fix her a cup of tea.”  
  
“But I don’t want to go!” erupted the only Weasley daughter. “I want to hear what those two have been plotting behind my back, what wonderful and utterly worthless excuses they managed to come up with between them to explain Ron’s recent fuck-ups! I want to...”  
  
“And I want you to leave,” interrupted her mother, for once uncharacteristically calm. “And you, young lady, will not use language like this in my presence, ever again! Merlin knows I’m eager to hear as much as you are what Ron could possibly have to say for himself, but I’m afraid we won’t get his side of the story, if you keep on throwing insults at him and the rest of your brothers. This is my house and you will do as I say. Or leave.”  
  
The firmness in her eyes was a stern reminder that this was the woman who blew Bellatrix Lestrange, the very right hand of the Dark Lord, to smithereens, and Ginny, as fierce as she was, recognised her defeat.  
  
“I hate you all!” she threw at them feverishly, turned on the heel and all but ran away from the room. Percy followed eagerly, unmistakable relief on his face testifying how happy he was to leave the thick atmosphere of the room behind.  
  
As soon as they were gone, Molly Weasley faced her oldest son and with Ginny gone, all the worry and despair settled back into her eyes.  
  
“How is he?” she spoke quickly, almost hungrily, as if she was afraid that if she didn’t ask the question now, she will never get a chance to.  
  
“He is fine, mom, honestly,” Bill said softly, almost soothingly. “I went to meet him the other day already, I wanted to apologize. The more I kept thinking about it, the more I felt guilty about blaming him for the whole “getting involved with Harry” business. I’m sure Harry must have played his part in it, it’s not like Ron had to twist his arm into it - and yet we were all so eager to pardon him when he apologized – and none of us thought for a moment, how Ron must have felt. I know my little brother – he would never have hurt Ginny or Hermione on purpose, so I gathered something deeper than just thoughtless playing around must have been underneath this affair we all dismissed with such ease. We...” he looked hesitatingly at his family and saw them practically hanging on every word from his lips - and made a decision. Fuck it, he might as well throw it all to the dogs and speak frankly – with Percy and Ginny gone and Charlie backing him up, while George was being his usual neutral smirking self, perhaps he stood a chance, a small one, but a chance nevertheless of trying to make sense of Ron’s behaviour for his lost and hurt-looking parents.  
  
“I, for myself, always knew Ron loved Harry,” he spoke as gently as he could, as if his voice could soften the blow he was about to deliver. “I just didn’t know how much. And for all I saw, I always thought Harry loved him right back. I think Harry tried very hard to replace Ron with Ginny, because we all know how much he craved to have a family of his own. It was hardly fair to Ginny, but I don’t think he knew what he was doing at the time. And I suppose for a while it worked for all of them, because they were all so busy with building their lives and their careers and starting a family. But for all it is worth – I think it was Harry who wasn’t willing to give Ron up and not the other way around and eventually this thing…” he tried to choose the right set of words for the sake of his parents, “... this affection between them burst to life with a vengeance.  
  
Look - mom, dad...” he took a large gulp of breath - hoping he was doing the right thing and doing it right - then  continued: “I know it’s hard for you to believe that two men could love each other,” his eyes diverted to Charlie apologetically, almost pleadingly, “but it’s love, just like any other. It’s common - perhaps not traditional, but accepted - among your beloved Muggles, dad. Men fall in love, they live together and it’s alright. Women do, too. With each other. If they love each other, they do.  
  
But there is no such thing in our world. There are not enough of us and we need to have children. Ron knew that, so he did what was expected of him. Harry didn’t know, but he followed Ron’s example simply because he wanted his own family so badly. But you are what you are and you can’t be someone else. Harry was always the Chosen one for Ron and, as much as I respect what Harry tried to do with his apology, I think he stamped most cruelly over Ron’s heart. And... oh, bloody hell, I know we don’t talk about it in this family, but we all know how easy it is to hurt Ron with all his insecurities and “I’m the last and the most worthless” attitude... Ron was willing to take the blame for all the hurt they’ve caused, for everything the world would have deemed as wrong, he was willing to love Harry to the grave and back, if only Harry acknowledged him as his equal – but Harry never did. He  _apologized_  for loving him. And Ron couldn’t accept that.  
  
And I can understand. In fact, I respect him and love him for it. And I don’t think we should humour Ginny’s hurt pride any longer by shoving Ron’s face in the dirt. I, for one, don’t want to neglect my brother any longer. I love that little bugger with all my heart, just as I love that spoilt princess sulking in her room right now, and I’m no longer willing to be a hostage of Ginny’s anger and Harry’s cowardice – don’t give me that look, dad, that’s exactly what this is. I want to be able to meet my brother and hug him and tell him off for being a prick and welcome him in this home and in my own, because he’s the bravest effing person I’ve ever met!”  
  
Bill looked around him defiantly, only to find his mother stare at him with tears in her eyes and a quiet “ _Oh, Billy…_ ” before she threw her arms around him, told him she understood. Love was the one foundation this family could not do without, it was their glue in the hardest of times and though they never much spoke of it, it was the quiet pulse underneath everything good they ever did with their lives.  
  
“Good ol’ Albus D. couldn’t have put it better himself,” mumbled Charlie, considerably red in the face from the attempts to keep emotion at bay, while George added quietly: “I told Potter he was a fool. We always thought they were awfully cute together…” And everybody knew who was the other part of “we”.  
  
Arthur found himself with a knot in his throat. Not once had he thought that Ron, perhaps, might have truly been in love with Harry and now that he did, Harry’s apology did sound like an awfully harsh thing to do. Arthur could understand love. He was surrounded by it ever since he first put his arms around that fierce warm-hearted redheaded girl who later made him the happiest proudest man on Earth by becoming his wife. And with a bit of squinting he could understand Ron’s devotion to Harry – after all, the Boy who once lived with no love grew up one hell of a Man that was almost too easy to love.  
  
But while loving warm, compassionate charismatic yet unassuming Harry was easy to picture, Arthur still had a hard time imagining how could he be replaced in Ron’s heart by someone cold, disdainful and cruel – like one  _Malfoy_. And the words spilled out of him before he could stop them:  
  
“But what about Malfoy?! I don’t understand... Harry... I could make sense of Harry,  _everybody_  loves Harry, but Malfoy... what the heck is Ron’s business with him?! This can’t be right, he’s... not right... he’ll only hurt him, I know he will, he’s  _a Malfoy_ , they know no better! And if he only kept it private...”  
  
“I honestly have no idea,” Bill interrupted his father, unwilling for see what little grace he won for Ron go to waste because of his brother’s unfortunate choice of a partner. “Fuck me, if I understand – yeah, I know, mom, the language... I suggest you ask him, dad. He’s willing to come as soon as he’s called and make some sense of it – I as sure as hell couldn’t make heads or tails out of that Prophet story... though I must admit they look kind of cute together,” he mumbled as an afterthought and caught a snippy radiant smile on Charlie’s face.  
  
“Well, go on, call him then! Let’s see what this... folly is all about,” Arthur flung his long arms in the air impatiently and ended up ruffling his receding hair with a gesture that would make Harry proud. Bill has rarely seen his father so upset and seeing Arthur  _more_  upset than Molly was a definite first.  
  
His heart was heavy when he walked to the fireplace to call on his brother, knowing that Ron was likely to receive a most unpleasant welcome. He wished nothing but the best for his little brother but as much as he had tried to make them understand – for the kind of traditional people his parents were the world was a very different place from the realm Ron stepped in with his unorthodox decisions and an even more startling choice of a partner.  
  
Frankly – Bill could not see how on Earth could Ron possibly make them understand, even Bill himself couldn’t begin to fathom what could Ron ever see in that skinny pale wanker – but if Bill had learned anything about his inconspicuous little brother it was the fact that he never failed to surprise. As average and awkward as he might once have seemed among his more colourful, bolder brothers –he had achieved more than all of them combined. In all but 25 years of his life he had become a household name, a best friend to a legend, Minister’s husband, an idol to many and above all - a man that was willing to throw it all away to remain true to himself. Bill admired him to no end, his bravery, his integrity, his silent self-confidence. I suppose it was time to place his trust in Ron yet again – he was not a man of grand words, but there was sincerity and innocence about him that might do a better job on his parents than any eloquence could have. Time to put this theory to test, then.  
  
~  
  
Ron realized he was nervous. Stuck in his new office, sipping lukewarm abomination that passed for a coffee at the Ministry, he had nothing to do but wait for Bill to call him – or not. What if his family decided they’ve had it with him? He knew his mother – for all the screaming she was capable of, she would have forgiven any one of her boys even if she found him with a knife dripping with blood over the corpse of a Unicorn - she was just good like that. But his dad… he was a whole different matter. Arthur Weasley was nothing if not a man of integrity. He knew his right from wrong and if standing up for what he believed in meant a full-on war with one of his children – then a full on war it was. The whole awful situation with Percy before the second war had taught them all a harsh lesson: Arthur Weasley, as much as he always preferred to stick to the background of his vibrant family, was a proper pater familias, who knew how to put his foot down in the way that made the Earth shake. What passed on as acceptable to the family was ultimately his call. And that worried Ron.  
  
He knew he was not very close to his dad – when they were little Arthur worked every extra hour he could to make the ends meet and as such, hardly spent any time with his children. Arthur was close to Bill, his firstborn, sometimes they seemed to understand each other with no words; perhaps to Percy, who worked next to him and understood the Ministry business better than any of his other children and Ginny was always his little princess. But not Ron, never Ron. All he ever got from Ron were an inch-deep wrinkles on his forehead from his deadly adventures and though Ron was sure his dad loved him no less than the rest of his offspring – he wasn’t completely sure of Arthur’s capacity to understand and accept something as foreign as relationship between two men. _Especially_ so if one of the pair was his own child and another was a Malfoy.  
  
If anything could diminish his chances of finding understanding with his dad,  _this_  was a sure thing. Dad despised the Malfoys. And honestly, Ron had no idea how to make him welcome the son of Lucius Malfoy into their family. Perhaps if he had more time, he would be able to devise a strategy, introduce the idea slowly, but Harry had been clever: making the whole thing blow up into their faces so suddenly robbed Ron of any manoeuvring space to do this properly. But that as sure as hell didn’t mean he wasn’t ready to try. Not in the least  _because_  his chosen one was a Malfoy. This meant trouble.  
  
He did not had time to discuss this with Draco yet, but he knew that if chances of being accepted by his family were slim, the chances of finding understanding for their relationship with the Malfoys were non- existent. Lucius Malfoy was a vicious person who hardly stopped at anything and if it meant protecting his own flesh and blood as well as the reputation of the Malfoy family from what he would surely see as the ultimate disgrace - he would most likely be going for a kill.  _Possibly literally_. And if Ron’s family was to renounce him… they’d have no one to turn to. Harry was… he was not used to having Harry as his adversary, this was just… it wasn’t right. But he was not going to be on his side, not this time, that much was sure. And if Draco couldn’t make peace with Hermione… as tempted as he was to go and see how that particular confrontation went, he knew he needed to keep his focus and his wits about, so he decided against it. If Hermione wasn’t ready to back them up, he didn’t need to know that now. It would only make him more edgy.  
  
So as it was, he was pretty desperate to patch things up with his family. He had let this wound fester for far too long and perhaps now, it would be too late… He missed them like crazy. He missed his mother’s delicious comfort cooking and caring scolding, George’s breakfast pranks and the enthusiastic slightly mad look on dad’s face when he showed up with yet another Muggle device he knew no purpose for and he couldn’t wait to put apart and modify. Fuck, he even missed the trashing about of the ghoul on the attic and de-gnoming a garden was a damn good exercise! He longed to show Draco his orange room that will surely call for emergency resuscitation of the sophisticated youth – he wouldn’t mind some good old mouth-to-mouth right about now – and perhaps they could enlarge the bed a little and see if it could take their double weight…  
  
He was daydreaming now, he knew it, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t imagine not having his family to back him up, no Sunday lunches to look forward to (or to avoid), no Howlers telling him someone cared, no pranks and teasing and brotherly fights. Well, at least knew he could count on Bill, though his oldest brother had almost choked over a scone when he told him Malfoy and him were not just one night fuck-buddies. And he had Charlie, he always had Charlie. Even the thought of his older brother with his quiet adamant attitude, so much like his dad’s, made him smile. Perhaps there was hope after all. If anyone could stand up to whatever the world had in store for him and his man – god, it still felt surreal to call Draco Malfoy his own! – if anyone could, it was his family. And Lucius Malfoy, with all his evil intentions and devious means would find a worthy opponent in his father. Arthur knew him inside out, he was used to his vicious merciless style of actions and if anyone had the means and knowledge to ruthlessly curb the anger of one Lucius Malfoy it was his dad. He’d be glad to do it, actually. If only he could make him understand…  
  
So far he didn’t have much of a plan. He already knew it would probably come down to his dad. And it’s going to be a hard sell. Anyone would have been a hard sell, even Harry – but Harry didn’t choose him, Malfoy did. And Malfoy it was going to be. Even if it meant no more Sunday lunches, neurotic ghuls and firecrackers in the morning coffee. The blond risked everything, he gave his all and Ron wasn’t going to let him down. He had nothing left without Draco. With him, he could have it all. And if his family really cared for him, they would understand. Suddenly his head was clear and the nervousness gone. He had already made his decision, he just needed to break it to his parents. What happens from that point on, will not be up to him anymore. It will be like flashing a Horcrux in their faces – he hoped they can conquer it, just like he once had to. He had chosen the right way all those years ago, he had overcome his biggest weaknesses and he came out on the other side cleaned by the fire of envy, resentment and insecurity. It had made him a man he was today. Perhaps his family can come out stronger as well. If not… he still had his man.  
  
Even the thought of Draco, of his dreamy morning smile, of the silver eyes, suddenly laced with awe when he realized who he woke up with and then of those perfect white limbs, stubbornly wrapped up around him, unwilling to let him go just to get some last minute cuddling – those thoughts were enough to stretch his lips into a conquering smile. Yes, he had his man now and what a man it was! He was just perfect, he was…  
  
“Ron?” A soot covered image of Bill from the fireplace broke through his reveries and the redhead instantly sobered. That was it, then. He hoped he could do this right. He had missed them and right now he needed them. They can’t reject him because of love, he won’t let them.

~

As soon as Ron stepped out of the fireplace, looking tired but strangely radiant, Arthur was flushed with humbling awareness how much he had missed his youngest son. Not for the first time in his life he wished he was more like his passionate wife, who had no reservations in expressing her feelings of anxiety and motherly love. She all but screamed happily, and proceeded to try to crush him in her embrace, all the time scolding him for being “too thin”, “over-worked” and “too lazy to visit”. Not a word was spoken of his supposed wrong doings as if Molly wanted to make the best of her chance to bestow her motherly affection onto her child before any disagreements might come between them and ruin the moment. Arthur wished it was this easy for him.  
  
Ron seemed to have thinned but somehow grown even taller since the last time Arthur had seen him and it felt as if his presence filled up the room to the roof – there was no escaping it. And as much as he wanted to hug his youngest son and tell him how much he had missed him, he also wanted to shake him and tell him to get the hell away from the rotten Malfoys, to demand answers from him and make him give a promise he will reconsider. He stared at the lean long figure and was overwhelmed with deep primal urge to protect him, to protect what was his and keep him safe from the world that was bound to hurt and corrupt him.  
  
But it was too late. When Ron’s stare found him across the room and Arthur looked into those crystal sapphire blue eyes, so alike his own, he realized he might as well have been looking at night sky and wished to change it. It was all in vain. The man behind those eyes was beyond his reach. Ron looked at his father honestly, proudly and with a small smile that said “I know.  _I know,_  dad.” And Arthur knew then he won’t be able to move him an inch or make him change his mind. This is where the Prewett genes kicked in. Once Ron made a decision, Arthur might as well have been knocking his head at the concrete wall, his son wouldn’t budge a hair’s width. But he still wanted an explanation.  
  
Ron broke the quiet connection they shared by leaning down to his mother and kissing the top of her head.  
  
“Bloody hell, mom. You’d think I was lost in space for decades. I wanted to come earlier…” he hesitated for a second and then seemed to have made a decision, “… but I wasn’t sure I was still welcome.”  
  
“Oh, Ronnie… you can’t still be mad at me because of that Howler!” Molly only squeezed him tighter and looked up into his eyes apologetically. “You know how I get… Merlin, you’ve upset us so… Ginny was terribly besides herself and it was all such an impossible mess… and then Harry apologized and it made sense to forgive him and let bygones be bygones… though, perhaps that was not the best course of action… but you were always welcome! How could you… you’re my son, no matter what and God help me should I  _ever_ lose another child…”  
  
And as unexpectedly as that Molly started sobbing in her youngest son’s arms and Ron hugged her as if for a moment there their roles were reversed and he was the one with the power to make things better for her.  
  
“Shhhh, mom… I’m sorry it took me so long, alright? I’m sorry. It was just… complicated, but it isn’t anymore. I… Harry and I still have to talk about it, but there’s nothing going on anymore and there won’t be. I let Harry go, like I should have done a long time ago. And as sure as hell I didn’t come here to make you cry, mom. Please don’t cry, mom…”  
  
His voice sounded so lost and helpless she couldn’t help but smile through her tears and she hugged him even more fiercely.  
  
“Oh, Ronnie… it’s so good to have you back. It really is!”  
  
“I know, mom… I know. And I’m sorry. And I’m ready to come to lunch every Sunday if you’ll have me, just… I need to tell you some things first… all of you… no more secrets, no more lies, alright?”  
  
He had gently moved her away slightly from his embrace, just to look her straight in the eye and she gave a small nod and try to fight her tears to let him speak.  
  
“I reckon you’ve all seen the Prophet this morning, yeah?” Ron merely glanced around the room and their silence was enough of confirmation for him to continue. “Many things in that article are merely a waste of paper and time, but a few things are true and I would like you to hear it from my mouth, as it happened. I… I went out with Draco Malfoy last night. I woke up yesterday morning to find him assigned as my new partner and as expected, it had all turned into a screaming contest within minutes of us sharing the breathing space… except when I stared down his face ready to punch his lights out, he completely shattered… he... oh, in short, he called me an oblivious idiot and told me he’s been crazy about me since we went to school together.  
  
It was… unexpected to say the least and even a bit scary, to see him fall apart like this. Malfoys… don’t do that. But he did.  _For me._  No one’s ever done that before for me… waited so long, put everything on the line…. No one’s ever… I was never the one, the only one. There were always so many of us and I’m not the best at making myself stand out of the crowd. No offence, mom, dad, but I was just another son. And later when there was Harry, there was Ginny to think about and with Hermione – it was obvious she had higher regard for Harry’s opinion and her career plans than our marriage… In short, no one’s ever put me first. And suddenly he had. A Malfoy, of all people.  
  
I know what you must be thinking, dad, I was thinking it, too. That this is all some kind of an elaborate plan that would eventually end up in my humiliation, that I shouldn’t trust him. But then he went on and said… and did… things that made me believe he might actually be serious about it, about us. He… I…”  
  
Ron bit his lip and looked around nervously as if trying to gather his scattered thoughts and soak up some of the energy of his home, the place of so many happy memories, to help him get through to his family:  
  
“I know it’s hard for you to imagine, but… I just want to be the only one for someone. Bloody hell, this sounds stupid when I say it like this, but I guess… I need it. This household, what you, mom and dad, have got, it’s just… so much love, it always made me yearn for something like that for myself. That someone’s eyes would light up just because I walked into the room, like yours do, mom, when dad walks through the door. I guess I’m that kind of a... romantic fool, I suppose, that always dreamt about having someone to hold my hand proudly and tell the whole world how over the moon they are to be with me. Not with these words, of course… and perhaps the holding hands part also doesn’t play a pivotal role… oh, bloody hell, you all know what I mean, stop snickering, George! What I’m trying to say is, that I always wanted someone like that, someone for whom I was the first and only choice and for the first time in my life, I was willing to let go of hope that this was going to be Harry.  
  
I… Ginny told you, didn’t she? About me and Harry, she must have, that Howler… well, she could not have told you the whole story, because my guess is, she doesn’t know it. Harry and I… well, at least _I_ , speaking for myself, I think I must have been a bit in love with Harry before I even met him. All those stories about him in the books, the mystery of his survival, the hint of so much power hiding inside a mere infant – they all spiked my imagination like anything… and then I met that shy lonely boy everybody knew about and he wanted to be my friend and made me feel like a million galleons worth! He turned down Malfoy’s friendship for me, imagine that! For me, for Ron Weasley, a complete and utter nobody! I was “the one he’d miss the most”, bloody hell, if nothing else, that should have given you a clue how wrapped around each other we’ve become over the years!  
  
And as mortified as this might make you, sometime down the road it stopped mattering that he was a boy. There’s no words for how it bothered me at first… I was completely beside myself, having all those terrible feelings I didn’t know what to do with, totally inappropriate and… unacceptable, I guess. But then one night he needed my comfort after one of those terrible nightmares he used to have and they just flew out of me, those feelings… and he took them, took my love and gave it right back and from then on it didn’t matter anymore.  
  
So we got… physical. While we were still in school. Before he ever went out with Ginny, he was with me.  I would have done anything for him; told you about us, kept it a secret, never act on it again – anything, I would have done anything for my Harry. With all the raging teenage hormones on one side and all the deaths and the misery and the horrors on another, eventually it just seemed irrelevant that we were both boys. I guess we never expected to have much of a future, so we took love and comfort where we could find it, while we still could. It could all be over the next day and we’d have nothing but regrets if we’d miss out even on what little that was.  
  
And then suddenly there it was - a proper future, and I know, for my part, it had left me pretty damn confused. So I figured I better do what was expected of me to do and hope for the best. So I married Hermione and tried to be happy that Harry got Ginny and would finally have his own family – something I knew he was desperate for. And I’m not sorry. Those years gave me Rosie and Hugo and I still can’t believe something as wonderful as that came out me. They’re so… awesome, my two little wonders. But I guess I should not have left matters unresolved. Harry was my first true love and for all its worth, I always believed he was going to be my only one. I loved Hermione – but she was no match for Harry once he discovered he was not willing to quite let go of me either.  
  
And it was wrong. We hurt many people, Hermione and Ginny included, but we’ve also hurt ourselves and each other. I never wanted to be someone’s dirty little secret and it bothered me to no end that Harry was not prepared to ever make me anything else. So this is where I was when Malfoy stepped back into my life. Malfoy, Draco, has been following my footsteps and I never noticed. He got a job,  _a job, dad,_ when the whole world knows Malfoys think that paid work is beneath them – but he did it to stay close to me. And by the time he found out that Harry and I resumed our relationship, he was pretty damn desperate. So he found a way to let Hermione know and then the whole thing just exploded in our faces. It was all his doing, he admitted it himself – and he did it all for me. Now, I know I should be mad at him for ruining our lives like that – but at that point there wasn’t much of the real thing left to ruin, it had all become about lies and pretences and false promises. And he had done it  _for me_. That was… for me, it meant everything.  
  
Either way – what he’d done, it didn’t work right away and it certainly didn’t work the way he planned it would, but eventually, inevitably, we crashed into one another – and before I knew it, it just exploded around me, the whole crash-bang-thing, the fireworks I’ve been waiting for all my life… suddenly it was all there. After all this time, all those years I was looking for it in vain, the most unlikely person made it happen for me and what he gave me… it cut me to the core. I know you expect me to explain...“ - he looked around the room with eyes as bright as blue flames and then smiled softly – “... but I can’t. How do you explain love? I sure as heck know I can’t. I just know how he makes me feel. Like I’m a million galleons worth, just like Harry once did. Except he’s not afraid to show it, he’s not ashamed of me, of us, he’s proudly flaunting me around like I’m the world’s biggest prize or something! And as fu… screwed up as it might be, we just work for each other.  
  
He treats me right, he bloody well  _adores_  me –and it would all be worthless if he didn’t feel right. Here, in my heart. But he does. I don’t know how, but somehow when I look into his eyes, we speak the same language. The way he loves me – it puts me on top of the world. No one’s ever made me feel like that before… except Harry. And I won’t have Harry, not after the way he’s treated me.  
  
So I suppose I came here today to ask for... “ He stopped abruptly, trying to figure out how to tell them what he really wanted to say: that he came there for their love, the unconditional sort, the “no matter what you do, we’ll always love you” kind. But it would hurt his mother if she thought he was saying he never got it from them. And he knew they would understand even if he didn’t quite use those words. So, instead, he finished quietly:  
  
“I came to ask for your support, your blessing, if you like. I’d really appreciate that. We won’t get it from the Malfoys. Merlin knows what will come from there - hexes by a dozen, I imagine! Malfoy Senior won’t be too particular when it comes to protecting his family honour and his precious son from the “Weasley plague”. So I would really like to have you on my side, if you’re willing to accept us. I know I’m asking a lot – god forbid anything should ever be easy when Malfoys are involved! – but I wouldn’t ask if I thought what we had was wrong. I never asked for your approval much, because I never needed it – I had mostly made all the right choices on my own. But this is one hell of a hard choice to make, so I would mean the world for me if you were behind me on it.  
  
Because for me – he’s worth it. I know you, all of you, might not be able to understand completely, what draws me to another man, what pulls me to one Malfoy of all people, someone who never did much else than tried to hurt me. But know this: Draco is not his father, though he was raised to become just like him. He might still be mean and petty at times, he knows no better - but he’s also fiercely protective, loyal to a fault and most of all – he loves me like crazy. And his love… it just heals all my wounds, all my insecurities, it puts me to peace, like I finally found what I wanted. I just know I won’t find better than that. I don’t want to go looking.”  
  
He looked around them with his eyes bright and everyone understood what went unspoken: He’d really like their support, but if they won’t give it, he was digging his heels in to stand alone. And it broke Arthur’s heart that anyone should find himself in such a position. Let alone his own flesh and blood. He coughed softly to get their attention and glanced at his wife to seek her approval. After seeing the big tears glistening in the big brown eyes, begging him not to rob her of another child, and the trembling lips pressed together, trying to keep a flood of feelings at bay, he saw there really was no other way:  
  
“I suppose I speak for everyone when I say that you are a part of this family, Ron, no matter what you’ve done - and you always will be. An important part, a cherished part. Perhaps we did not always find the right words and the right time to say them, but we do love you, Ronald, and we all missed you terribly. I hope we will never let you down. I can’t pretend I can understand your choice of a partner… but I’m willing to give him a chance. On your word alone. So if Lucius Malfoy thinks my son is not good enough for his precious boy, I’d be more than happy to explain he needn’t bother turning his long nose up – as long as his son is with you, he’s part of  _our_  family. And if Malfoy junior – Merlin forbid – hurts you and leaves you torn apart, we will be here for you, son. And - God help his soul - your mother here will happily tear him to pieces, she’s good like that. After all, dealing out justice to  _that_  particular family seems to be a bit of a specialty of hers.”  
  
Arthur barely managed a small smile, before a squealing Molly Weasley rushed into his arms and attempted to crush him in her embrace, all the while sobbing wildly: “Oh, Artie… I’m so glad I married you!!!”  
  
Ron felt a knot in his throat form and it felt just a little bit too much like he was seeing the world blurred through unexpected drops of moisture, so he blinked a couple of times quickly to make it go away – he knew if he cried now, in front of his brothers, he would  _never_  hear the end of it, he’d never live down the taunting of what a nancy he’d become after one night with Malfoy! But he really did it, didn’t he?! He managed to persuade his dad to give Draco a chance and that was all he needed. A small window of opportunity and all he had to do now was to knock it into a certain blond head that its owner should be on his best behaviour when he was around his family. He wasn’t worried about that. He could think of  _several ways_  that would make it his  _pleasure_  to persuade that particular blond head to do his bidding.  
  
He caught a glimpse of an impressed smile forming on Bill’s face… and a moment later a look of alarm. This was all the warning he got. He acted on pure instinct and dived to the side precisely when a desperate Percy’s  “Ginny, no!” was cut short by a loud “ _Sectumsempra_!” crashing into the spot he occupied just a moment ago. A complete chaos of rustling, screams and sobbing erupted behind his back, so he did what he thought best – he disapparated and immediately apparated in the doorway to the kitchen. No one heard the soft pop of apparition in the commotion that took place after Ginny’s outburst of violence and as quietly as a mountain cat he approached his little sister from behind. Ginny was still holding her wand in her shaky outstretched arm as if petrified, the hazy unstable look in her eyes making her look as if she was barely holding onto her sanity.  
  
Her cheek sported a clearly visible outline of her mother’s hand in a red print and a furious Molly Weasley would not be stopped:  
  
“How dare you!!! Under my roof!!! My own son, my youngest!!! Haven’t you put him through enough?! How dare you blame it all on him?! And to go after him with this horrible hex... Do you have any idea what you could have done!?”  
  
“It suits him right!!!” screeched the ghastly pale girl. “He should bare the same scars as his precious Death Eater boyfriend! My Harry had the mind to put it on him all those years ago, it’s only fair that Ron has a matching set, the bastard, after all he’s done…!”  
  
“Have I given birth to an imbecile?!!! There are none of us trained Healers here, you daft child!” bellowed her mother. “Draco Malfoy had Professor Snape at his side moments after he was hexed and still he barely saved his life! And don’t you bring your husband into this!! Harry was a child, he made a stupid decision to use a hex he knew nothing about and he was profoundly sorry and ashamed of himself after what he had done. But if he ever found out you went after Ron with this hex, deliberately, knowing what it could do, he might just _murder_ you himself!!!”  
  
And those words were enough to make Ginny’s wand clatter to the ground and have her crumble into herself. Ron caught her from behind midway her fall and steadied her in a tight solid embrace, looking at his mother calmly:  
  
 “Enough, mom, enough, Ginny…”  
  
When the redheaded girl recognised her brother’s voice, she tried to break his hold on her, but a steel vice of a trained Auror was too much for her strength. She merely succeeded to spin inside the bear-hug to face him and banged her fists against the muscled torso:  
  
“Why does he always have to choose you?! Why!?” she half screamed, half sobbed. “Why you!? I wish you were dead! I wish I was…” She broke down into a stream of hysterical sobs and tears and all the while Ron held her as if taking her anger and unrestrained aggression was a way to wash some of his guilt away. He never showed any signs he was willing to let go of her, even when she slapped him repeatedly and began spitting one insult after another into his face, as if he understood she would never have said anything half as horrible if he didn’t cut her so deeply. He simply anchored her and let all her wrath wash over him it and clean them both.  
  
Bill took one look at them and quietly motioned to his family to let them be, to give them some space and one after another the Weasley family members dissolved into the tiny space of the Burrow.  
  
A long time after they were left alone, Ginny’s sobs finally subsided and her fists fell loose by her sides… and slowly closed behind her brother’s back as if she suddenly felt robbed of all the strength she ever possessed.  
  
She never felt so very empty, frail and exposed in all her life and for a moment there she was so fragile, her numbed brains allowed her to forget that she was only being held together by the very person who caused her distress. Her mind was completely blank and in the stillness that seemed to have frozen all the movements and all the sounds of the proverbially vibrant Weasley household she found solace inside the warm embrace made up of strong arms, securing her against a body, radiating the feeling of safety. Something about that hug was telling her everything was going to be alright and she was too destroyed to care where the feeling came from.  
  
And then unexpectedly she felt the bear hug loosen up and her head was slowly pushed up by an unrelenting finger under her chin until she stared her brother in the eyes. And they were moist and so very blue from up close she somehow couldn’t hate him as much as she wanted to just because they were the very colour of innocence and because his voice was rough with all the held back emotion and regret:  
  
“I never meant to hurt you, Gin. I’m so sorry, I truly am. For all it’s worth, Harry never chose me, not once, not ever since he’s been with you. He never would have, what you two have is too important for him... as it should be. What we had - and it’s all in the past now – was never going to be enough for either of us. He would always regret losing his family, or a chance of it and it would always feel wrong if I was to take him from you. I... tried... God help me, as much as I’m ashamed of it, I tried, I asked him to give you up to be with me – and he wouldn’t.  
  
So there you go: you and what you’ve got is more important than this... thing between us ever was. I won’t lie, I might never be indifferent to Harry, my world rotated around him for far too long for that and he’s my best friend in the world, no matter what  – but I will make you an Unbreakable Vow if you want me to, that I’ll never come between you and him as a husband and wife, ever again. It’s just... too hurtful and I wouldn’t be able to build my good fortune on someone else’s misery, least of all yours, little sister.  
  
I always wanted the best for you, though it might sound bollocks from where you stand, but I would never willingly hurt you. I was just... trying to heal myself, I guess, through the only affection that felt real in my life. But Muggles got this one thing right - they say you can’t heal yourself by breaking someone else. So I won’t take what’s yours anymore. Not ever again.”  
  
“Not even if he’s willing?” said Ginny in the quietest of voices. “Not even if he’s finally willing to give it all up for you, Ron?”  
  
The tall redhead felt a knot in his throat form and he shook his head almost imperceptibly:  “Not even if he is, Ginny. I’ve already moved on.”  
  
“I was going to ask you how you could have done that to me, Ron,” Ginny said quietly. “But now I’m not going to. Because I know. He told me last night. He told me everything, Ronnie, and it hurt…”  
  
She quietly started sobbing in his arms again and he held her, just closing his eyes and wishing for a way to take her pain on his shoulders.  
  
“He told me… and you have no idea…” she somehow choked through her tears. “He loves you so… wish he’d love me half as much.... I don’t even compare... He’d do anything for you… just as I would do anything for him… except letting him go… I can’t Ronnie, I truly can’t. I tried thinking about it and I can’t stand the thought. I know it’s selfish of me, but I can’t make myself let go of him. I don’t know what I’d do… Don’t take him from me… please…”  
  
She looked at her brother with so much pleading, like a child hopelessly wishing for a star, that it broke his heart:  
  
“Shit, Gin... of course not. I wouldn’t… Of course I won’t. You don’t even have to ask. He’s all yours. As I said, I’ve already moved on. And I mean it, I do. Look... I know it’s hard for you to believe, hell, it’s even hard for me to believe, but that blond bastard just works for me... he loves me the way Harry never did, never would. No one’s ever shown me... such enthusiasm, I suppose,” he let a small smile slip and continued quickly to mask his embarrassment: “I wouldn’t go through the trouble of asking mom and dad to accept us as, well “us”, if it was just a one-night fling. You have to believe me. I...”  
  
“And you? Do you love him, Ron?” Ginny interrupted, her voice quiet but underlined with urgency to know the truth, to make sure there won’t be another attempt at her fragile chance of future with Harry. “Do you? Because if you don’t and you’re only doing this to fill up a hole that letting go of Harry is going to leave behind, that’s awfully inconsiderate and cruel even for you. Malfoy... as much as I hate the ferret - and have no illusions, I do, honestly so – I feel nothing but pity for him if he really loves you as much as you say he does and you’re just going to try and fake the real thing with him...”  _And run back to Harry once the rush of first excitement is over_  went unspoken, but Ron didn’t need his skills as legilimens to hear her loud and clear.  
  
So he figured he owed her the truth: “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know if this is love or some other madness entirely, but I know it’s left its mark on me in a way I cannot dismiss. I’m drawn to him with a force that seems beyond me and I have about as much power to fight it like the running water does the funnel – I just can’t seem to be able to turn and run the other way, run away from him. It’s almost… scary, so powerful and mind-shattering it is and... oh, bloody hell, he’s been the only thing on my mind ever since that bathroom... oh, you really don’t need to know.  
  
Harry doesn’t even... he’s been my entire world for god knows how long and I swear to you I didn’t even think of him once since last night, not... romantically, if you like. And I just look at that pale haughty wanker and something inside me melts and I want to... oh, I know, I know, too much information,” he waved his long arms in the air nervously when he saw the petrified look in her eyes. “I guess the point I’m trying to make here is, you needn’t worry. Even if Draco and I don’t work out, I can’t go back to Harry, knowing that there’s something out like that out there to be had. I hope that’s love. I have nothing to compare it with,” he looked at her with disarming sincerity. “But I can’t imagine it getting any better.”  
  
“Good. Good then,” she said after a short consideration. “You’re honest with me. I... thank you,” she said simply. “I’ve had quite enough lies. So I reckon I can be honest with you as well. I can’t... I won’t be able to forgive you for quite a while, I imagine, but as long as you can promise me – and mean it, Ron! – that you can keep away from my man, I’m ready to make you a peace offer. In spite of everything, I do love you, we’ve always been the closest, haven’t we?” she gave a tired smile and closed her eyes for a moment, melting into the simple joy of the tight warm embrace closing around her.   
  
“Reminds me of the times when we held each other through the storm, Ronnie,” she whispered quietly. “Can we hold each other through this one, you think?” She looked at him hopefully, a silent plea in her brown eyes reminding him of happier times when her childish full-hearted belief in him gave him the courage to be strong for both of them. So he nodded and kissed her brow and spoke quietly, but adamantly, for they were no longer children:  
  
“I think so… I hope so… but I cannot do this alone, Ginny. I’m going to need your help, your cooperation, if you like. Look, I know you hate everything that has to do with the Malfoys, there’s no point in lying about it, and you, of all people have better reasons than most to do so. I can’t change that… but I’m still going to ask you to be civil to Draco. I can’t play a game of constantly having to choose between one or the other member of my family and him. I can’t. What I have with him is too precious and if you’re going to try to make me lose it just to get back to me, I’d like to point out that  _this_  is definitely  _not_  in your best interest. You  _want_  me happy with another man, Ginny,” he looked at her pointedly and she was once again reminded that this man, her brother, as oblivious and as uncouth as he sometimes came across, was also a chess master supreme.  _Another man_  in this case was also a man who was not Harry. And the logic behind his words was indisputable.  
  
So she nodded in quiet acquiescence and asked curtly: “Anything else?”  
  
“Do not encourage Harry’s antagonism towards him. Say nothing, if you can’t bring yourself around to support us, but do not throw oil to the fire of Harry’s hatred towards Draco or there will be trouble none of us want for this family. You know I have temper, we all do. It must come with the hair or something... Either way - you know how protective I get and like it or not, Draco is  _mine_  now. The way he was as a kid – he hardly had a choice how he was going to turn out, considered who raised him. But he’s not the same man, Ginny. The war has changed us all and he is no exception. He has not done anything, as an adult, to deserve the loathing Harry’s been shovelling his way – except expose the lies we built our lives upon. I dare say eventually our lives will be better for it, though it might come across as a rough patch right now.  
  
I will deal with Harry on my own terms, as soon as I can, and I hope there’s something left of our friendship by the time I get to it. With the rate he’s going, there might not be. You’d do us all a favour to remind him about that. We were friends before we were lovers and I can’t imagine not being on the same wagon with him. I love the man to death and back, though – no, don’t give me that look - I’m not in love with him. Not anymore. I wonder if I ever was, if what I felt for him ever went beyond childhood infatuation. Me and my hero-worship, he?  
  
I guess what I’m trying to say is - I’ll do everything in my power to keep his friendship, but he needs to back off. For once, this is about me, about my chance to be happy and I won’ t have him blunder it for me. I can do that myself very well, thank you very much! It’ll be hard enough as it is… this is a fucking Malfoy, Gin, sometimes I wonder what the hell am I thinking!? But the thing is – I’m not. Thinking that is. I’m just following my heart for once and as bizarre as it seems, it’s taking me towards Draco Malfoy. Bloody hell, huh?!”  
  
And Ginny Weasley could not suppress a tiny smile at her brother’s sudden attack of anxiety, so much more alike the sensitive awkward boy she grew up with than this solid self-assured mountain of a man in front of her.  
  
“Bloody hell,” she agreed, surprised at the sudden spark of amusement in her own exhausted voice. “You just might pay for all your sins yet, Ronald Weasley! Going for a Malfoy, really...” she couldn’t help teasing and knowingly pouring some oil on the fire of his anxiety – but was startled to see him give a blissful, bone-melting grin that testified of his infatuation better than any of his attempt at wording could have done.  
  
“I know, serves me right, he?” he mumbled happily, blushing like a teenager, and kissed her on the cheek enthusiastically. “He’s worth it, though. Once you get past the icy façade, he’s all that and more! He’s got this fucking incredible...”  
  
“Oh, no you don’t, Ronald Billius Weasley! I might have agreed not to hex off your balls and the appendixes of your boyfriend  _at first sight_ , but that does not mean that I’m willing to lend an ear to the glorification of the redeeming qualities of your pet snake! I think it’s pretty safe to say that there will  _never_  be a good time for that! And Ron – “ she looked him in the eye and after a short consideration gave a small peck on his cheek to seal their peace treaty.  
  
“It’s love. No need to worry about that. The oblivious log you are, might not be able to recognise it, but you always wore your heart on the sleeve and right now you might as well be wearing a big blinking necklace saying “I’m crazy about Draco Malfoy”. You... _glow_ , when you talk about him, and you get all protective and manly and bloody hell, I think the git is in for a ride of his life!” she finally laughed out loud full-heartedly at the sight of the suddenly tomato-like colour of her brother’s complexion, clearly spelling out the charming mixture of distress, embarrassment and enthusiasm.  
  
“Now –how would you like to see the children, before you go? Teddy is watching over them by the pond. I know Hermione said a week at Granny Molly and they wouldn’t have it any other way, but I caught Rosie crying herself to sleep last night, because no one tucks her in like her “Pa” and there’s no saying what direction Hugo’s untamed magic might explode in, if he found out his Pa visited and never bothered to show his face! Did anyone tell you that he broke mom’s entire antique coffee set, levitating it around the room yesterday, no wand, nothing! No? Well, he did and mom wasn’t even angry, she almost burst at seams instead, so proud she was! Imagine one of us doing that, I’d rather volunteer for Azkaban, thank you very much! But his magic is amazing! Mom said...”  
  
~  
  
Carefully focused upon a safe topic of children, Ginny slowly led Ron outside and once the door clicked behind them at long last, two persons hiding behind a Disillusionment charm on the stairs were able to relax.  
  
“I guess that’s it, then. It doesn’t look like she’ll try to hex him again, the smooth talker he is! What a bloody drama it was! You can put your wand away now, Charlie,” mumbled Bill, leaning backwards against a wide frame of his dragon-tamer brother and sounding just a bit exhausted.  
  
“It’s not a wand, you fool...” whispered a warm breath right next to his ear and sent a jolt of new life through the tall muscled frame of the oldest one of Weasley children. “What’s the matter, Billy? Haven’t had one in such a long time you don’t recognise it any more?” Charlie whispered in his taller brother’s ear, but his attempt at ridicule was lost in a poorly concealed moan when the Head Curse-breaker of the distinguished and exceedingly boring institution of Gringotts turned around and knocked his brother against the wall fiercely. Bill’s mouth was on Charlie before he could draw another breath and it was hot and desperate and needy, as only the mouth of one person, who didn’t get nearly enough of what they wanted most, could be.  
  
“You know I’d only ever recognise yours...” Bill breathed inside his brother’s mouth and made him moan once again with a slow rubbing of obscenely talented silken tongue. “It’s only ever been you, Charlie... I’m waiting for you... each time... every time... no matter how long you make me wait... once a month is not enough... it’s never going to be enough for us... and there’s never going to be anyone else for me... put a continent between us and I’ll want you through the distance... put a string of your lovers - and they don’t matter... like my wife doesn’t... not when I’m with you. You’re all there is,” he said simply and destroyed what little self-preservation Charlie brought along, telling him to stay the fuck away from his very own brother.  
  
He couldn’t. He never could. If anyone knew definition of hopeless love, it was Charlie. And he was past caring. It was love all the same. This was Bill and he was worth it all to Charlie. The isolation from his family because he couldn’t face the fake picture-happiness of Bill’s other life. The lonely bed; empty, save for that one time a month when it was warm and bubbling with joy, a small corner of the Universe, steamy with forbidden closeness and unleashed desire; a ridiculous caricature of his empty life thrown in a limbo by the crippling love. A small million of meaningless brief encounters with faceless lovers, never rubbing off on his soul; the lies and the secrets and the half-truths; the lost hopes of ever becoming a father.... This was Bill. Charlie’s very own poison. He’d rather die of it than give it up.  
  
~  
  
“Don’t be impatient, we can’t make a move yet.”  
  
The voice of Harry Potter was tired, but as adamant as always as he stared into the steely grey of Lucius Malfoy’s eyes unrelenting.  
  
“I don’t see why not! My... person at the Ministry tells me they have separated after a visit to Shacklebolt’s office. And there has been  _more_  shameful display of scandalous behaviour...” – Lucius cut his words abruptly because he simply  _couldn’t_  bring himself to repeat his informant’s words that his son was seen holding hands with the Weasley Antichrist! – “I’m sure you realize this calls for emergency intervention! I will not have this... “ – he barely managed to swallow down “blood-traitor “...this Weasley spawn sink a boat of the Malfoy house with my son still sitting in it! They are separated, they are vulnerable, I say we move!” the master of Malfoy Manor all but knocked his foot on the ground in his impotent wrath.  
  
“And my sources tell me that your son is no longer at the Ministry! Since you have no information to testify otherwise, my guess is, he’s at Ron’s apartment – his  _heavily warded_  apartment, mind you. I know Ron, when he’s careful, he’s downright paranoid and unless the wards have been tuned to let you in, you’d turn up at St. Mungo’s – or worse! – before you could say “don’t mess with Ron Weasley”. And Ron – that much we do know – is at the Burrow. And that’s... surprising, even to me,” Harry admitted.  
  
“There always seems to be an element of chaos about Ron, that’s why he’s so successful at work, the scum just can’t seem to figure him out – and more often than not, it is the undoing of Ron’s opponents to underestimate him. He’s all strategy underneath. He knows what he’s doing – but right now – I don’t. I’m utter crap at chess – a “hero” here, not a master-mind, if you please,” he pointed at himself mockingly, sounding bitter.  
  
“Frankly - I have no idea what he hopes to achieve by visiting his family after that Prophet article this morning and with my wife there, I can’t see  _that_  working out for him. Still… he’s on his home ground, I can’t hope to get to him and knock some sense into that thick carrot head of his, not with all the people strolling about the Burrow. No… we need to plan this much more carefully and have an element of surprise on our side if this is ever going to work. We have to wait until they’re on the neutral ground, somewhere without wards and too many witnesses and then you’re free to deal with your son while I take care of Ron. It shouldn’t be too long: your son is not exactly a hermit and he seems to be… eager to flaunt his newest conquest around…” - Harry ground his teeth together at the infuriating thought – “…so I say we wait. And in the mean time...  
  
I would appreciate some more faith in my dedication to the matter of dragging those two their separate ways,” he finished by raising his voice as well as his eyebrow pointedly – it simply wouldn’t do to be ordered around by Lucius Malfoy of all people. “Need I remind you, that  _I_ came to  _you_  and  _not_  the other way around? Believe me, I’m as anxious to have this abominable delusional fling of theirs burst to pieces as you are – but we need to do this right and for good. Ron is one crazy stubborn motherf-… man, he’s incredibly resourceful and if we bollock this up due to some hasty action on our part, he will be much more careful next time and we might not get another chance for some time to come. And we can’t have that. I…”  _need Ron_ , he wanted to say, but it was not appropriate and it was none of their business. “I will not screw this up and I will not let you do that either!” he finished instead and stared at Lucius with sharp unbreakable green gaze until he saw him cave.  
  
“Very well, then,” grunted the older man begrudgingly, clearly discontent. “I might be willing to wait a tad longer… I only hope you know your “ _mate_ ” as well as you think you do,” he added with no small amount of poison, but never got the satisfaction of seeing him flinch:  
  
“As well as you thought you knew your son, I suppose. But we’re all in the dark here,” Harry added quietly and turned to leave, the sagged shoulders the only testimony of how hard he found it to be working against his best mate.  
  
Narcissa Malfoy née Black did her best to escape his notice and fade into the background. “In the dark…” he had said. Good then, Blacks always worked best in the dark. She had gotten a pretty good idea of her husband’s plotting in the last few hours and it broke her heart to see how merciless Lucius was willing to be to break their son. Well, not on her watch. She had devised a simple plan of her own and she was about to approach an unlikely ally.


	12. Prelude to disaster

“Wake up, Sleepyhead.”  
  
Soft silken mane was nudging up Draco’s neck and he sighed happily and cringed a little in a ticklish feeling. Funny, how something so annoying could be so incredibly endearing and, really, he  _should_  be grumpy for having his beauty sleep cut short… except he already caught the familiar scent of herbal shampoo and warm skin and somehow his tired senses didn’t  _quite_  mind coming to life under the veil of liquid red hair. Somehow he managed to unglue one sleepy eye open and found himself staring from close proximity into the expanse of golden freckles and smiling eyes, so very blue from up close.  
  
“Hey, beautiful,” Ron murmured softly. “I wouldn’t have woken you up, but it’s nearly dark and I wanted to see my boyfriend before I went to sleep.”  
  
“Mmmmm…” was all the coherence that poured out of Draco once the warm soft lips kissed the corner of his mouth and the tip of the silken tongue brushed along the seam. “More…” he asked in a grumpy voice, much like a spoilt child that once reigned over the Malfoy Manor and its many house-elves – but the man at his side was no house elf. He did his bidding alright, but he did it his way, talking control so matter-of-factly it never occurred to Draco to question him. Within moments, the redhead had him rolled onto his back and the soft tongue continued to outline the contours of Draco’s mouth, sliding gently at the edge of it, never sinking deeper, quite happy to be teasing, inviting, seducing. Then the eager mouth moved on to explore the side of his face, nibbling gently by the ear, sliding down to lave the delicate chin and climbing hungrily up again to the sensitive spot between his ear and his neck, waking him up completely and with a gasp.  
  
“You’re so bloody gorgeous… from the moment your open your eyes… how do you do that?… I want to paint your face once… cover this soft canvas of your skin… every line… every beautiful curve… with my tongue…” Ron whispered feverishly and Draco moaned and pulled him down on his mouth. Merlin, if that was how he got to wake up every time, he was ready to start taking the sleeping potion just to get spoiled like this… They were just kisses, slow, exploring, sensual kisses, nothing like their last night’s debauchery, and yet Draco could already feel the coils of arousal tightening impossibly under his heated skin.  
  
“Missed you…”  the blond managed to breathe into the hot wet cave in which his sanity was desperately disintegrating. “Want more… all of you… please… need you… need…”  
  
“Yeah… God, yeah… how could I deny you… just feel me… fuck, baby… this is what you do to me…” Ron pressed down his body, only a thin fabric between the hot hard bulge in his pants and a very naked Draco Malfoy. “I’m so hard it hurts… see, you’re hurting me… you need to make me feel better…”  
  
And Draco smiled; a blissful brilliant grin with a hint of mischief at the bottom of those captivating silver eyes: “Oh, hurting… am I? Don’t worry… I’ll make you better… I’ll make it real good for you…It’ll be my pleasure, Mr. Weasley, Sir… Healer Malfoy reporting to duty, baby… you’ll be right as rain soon…”  
  
All the fatigue gone, Draco did credit to his Slytherin house and slid down Ron’s body like a serpent, all the way rubbing his face against any spot of naked skin he encountered. There weren’t that many yet, but he made sure he made some as he went. By the time his face was in level with Ron’s crotch, the fabric of the trousers was tented absurdly and a gentle rub over the wet spot slowly spreading where the solid cock pressed at the cloth the hardest, elicited a loud growl and a string of expletives from his willing prey.  
  
“Shhhh… now, that’s no language becoming a gentleman… especially not one with such a lovely…. huge… hard… oh, god…  _beastofacock_ …”  
  
He had been mouthing the fabric over the contours of a thick heavy shaft while busying his fingers by undoing the button and working the zipper, but the sight of a rock-hard angry looking cock, his very  _naked_ , very much  _leaking_  cock, finally freed from the confines of the trousers, was too much for Draco to handle.  
  
“Merlin, Ron…” he breathed helplessly and, falling a victim to his own fantasies over that very cock, went to work like a man starved. And if what came out of Ron’s mouth was anything to judge by, Draco Malfoy must have been doing something right. In fact, he might have been working miracles down there.  
  
Ron was not even aware himself how much he needed this, needed to fuck his face in abandon, to let go of the tension, to have his body pushed across the boundary of bliss once more – and to know that this one person that was about to put him there, wasn’t going anywhere afterwards. He loved the feeling, it put him on top of the world, it made him feel cherished, wanted, loved. Draco’s mouth on his cock had started all this madness and it felt somehow befitting that he should feel it once again, to experience the wonderful mastery of that silken tongue, burning him with liquid desire – and feel so much more than the last time it was wrapped around him. He was high just from the knowledge that it was Draco Malfoy – the Malfoy, the elegant cold too-good-for-this-world Malfoy! – who was going down on him and loving every moment of it, making those incredible needy sounds of lust and want and that he was his, Ron’s to take and to master and to love and to hold.  
  
So he fucked his face some more, allowing himself to sink time and time again into that hot wet cave of depravity, until he was panting and cursing and yelping and begging with broken words of love and adoration, right up until he was brushing against the very edge of breaking, his cock so hard he could barely keep it in check and it hurt to even  _think_  he could go without it some more – and then he grabbed the blond head and pulled him up and held him, staring down the astonished face with beautiful swollen lips, slick with saliva and his juices, feeling his pained hot cock brushing lightly against the silken pulsating shaft of his man and he growled:  
  
“I wanna see your face, when I say this… I love you, Draco Malfoy. I fucking love you, I’ll do anything for you.”  
  
And with nothing but a sharp breathless gasp, without another touch, without a warning, Draco’s hips buckled and hot come exploded out of his strained cock, spilling all over Ron’s swollen shaft, making his owner arch into the hot wet flesh rubbing against him, breaking the last of the restraint Ron had and the redhead came violently into the wilderness of rocking hips and desperate tongues and breathless gasps “I love you… god… I love you…”  
  
In did not matter which one of them said it, Draco Malfoy had come from his confession of love alone and the memory of the stunned expression on the beautiful face was enough to fill Ron’s wanking sessions for years to come. He had never seen anything more captivating that Draco’s eyes when he told him he loved him. Those silver ponds, the heart-breaking hope and love and devotion inside them, was enough for Ron, they spoke volumes. He knew where he was at now. And it felt like home.  
  
Holding him tightly against his body, as tightly as he ever hoped to, he rubbed erratic soothing circles against the perfect naked back as he waited for the crazy heart-beat to come back to a level where he could hope to speak without stuttering. But for a while there his heart seemed quite happy in trying to demonstrate to whom it belonged, as it just wouldn’t calm down and it continued to beat wildly against another mad-paced pulse, pressed closely against it.  
  
“Jesus, man… you’re going to give me a heart-attack along with a permanent hard-on,” he finally managed and felt the blond smile blissfully against the skin of his neck, where his flushed panting face currently resided.  
  
“Well, you can’t take the cure for your… hurt and think you’re going to get away without side-effects, Weasley,” he did his best attempt at drawling, but it was kind of lost on Ron, threading his fingers gently through his hair and… bloody hell what was that all about!? “I kind of liked the side-effects, actually,” he added quietly and finally lifted his head from his beloved shelter to look him in the eye: “Did you mean it… what you said? I mean, bloody hell, I know, pillow talk and all that but I would have really  _really_  liked you to have meant it and it sounded like you did and…”  
  
“Shut up,” Ron made a short business of it and kissed him soundly, lovingly and with abandon - because this really didn’t need to be more complicated. “Shut up, you natural blond… of course I meant it… You think I would have thrown myself at my sister’s mercy today for a mere fling!? She threw a  _Sectumsempra_  at me and you of all people should know what that means! Oh, fucking hell, you’re not going to panic now, are you?! I’m fine, I really am, see, no scars, nothing… “  
  
The alarmed look in the silver eyes was impossible to miss, so Ron kissed him again and continued to kiss him until he felt him relax and calm down a little. “So much for the trust in my evasive abilities,” he mumbled begrudgingly, but not without a small sense of satisfaction that Draco obviously cared so much. “The last of the Weasley sons, 6 rather aggressive older brothers – well, five and Percy –  _and_  a Trained Auror here, hello?! I wouldn’t be worth the Ministry my salary if I didn’t slip under a hex when I expected one! Yeah, I knew what to look for when I stepped into the Burrow today, my sister  _did_  always have a temper. And I have wronged her, I’ve wronged her just about as much as any man could… But we’re good now. Don’t expect any welcoming presents, though, and I wouldn’t take a resurrection stone with a personal dedication from Salazaar if it came from George for the next few years – but yeah, we’re good…. Actually, my mother insists you join us for lunch this following Sunday and… bloody hell,  _dinner_!”  
  
Ron bumped his forehead with one of his big palms, and it was a gesture so familiar from his adolescent years, Draco couldn’t help but smile in spite of the loud growling that very becomingly responded from his belly.  
  
“Sweet Merling, get up! Up, up, up, with you, you lazy Slytherin slag! I’ve booked us a place and here you go and distract me so with this wonderful… oh, god… lazy bum… peeking so invitingly from the covers and… gorgeous, please…  I just couldn’t… bloody hell, Draco… don’t you wanna go and eat?” he managed desperately when the blond pulled him down for another searing kiss, clearly completely willing to ignore his survival instinct in exchange for some thorough snogging.  
  
“Don’t wanna eat… I’ve got my dinner right here,” the blond murmured, literally glued to Ron’s mouth and he would have gotten away with it, too, if his treacherous stomach didn’t choose that very moment to give another deafening roar in and the redhead literally jumped three feet in the air.  
  
“Oh, no you don’t, you blond… incubus! My own mother would murder me and put my remains in a sandwich if I dragged you all starved and faint to the Burrow! And Sunday is only two days from now, we urgently need to put some meat on those bones!”  
  
Ron sounded almost genuinely worried now – apparently the Weasley matriarch was someone to fear and obey – and Draco had to suppress a giggle over such a display of child-like anxiety.  
  
“Alright, then… but if I promise to be a good boy and finish my plate –what’s in it for me?” he couldn’t help but tease just to see the blue eyes go wide and a smile creep onto his lovely face.  
  
“Oh… how about a dessert… a take-away from the restaurant… something sweet and delicious and sinfully good… so _decadently_  mouth-watering it can only be consumed in the privacy of one’s home… say, this bed… would that do, my beautiful… naked… sex god?” Ron kissed him slowly, seductively and had him whimper into his last words.  
  
“Oh, yeah… I can definitely see the potential… “ Draco moaned under an onslaught of that heavenly mouth. “I suppose I could be persuaded… however, take-away, you say… perhaps we should just order in then, and…”  
  
“No go, you skinny food-ditching Slytherin snake, you’re not going to wriggle your way out of this lion’s claws! You’re not the only one who’s bursting at seems to show the world what a prize he’s won for himself! I wanna parade you around and flaunt you some more, until the whole fucking world knows you’re mine and I’ll stop nothing short of that!” Ron growled into his mouth, the sound so low and primal it sent shivers down Draco’s spine.  
  
“Oh… I suppose when you put it like that… you might want to put some clothes on you, Auror Weasley, or I’ll side-apparate you  _as you are_ to your chosen diner, that delicious bare arse in tow and all… Mind you, Weasley, I’m none too interested to drag this on any longer than I have to! I’ll let you feed me, in fear that I just might faint impaled on your wonderful hard cock later… and we really couldn’t have that… but I will by no means sit still and let you have your evil torturous way with me! God knows I don’t want another dinner like last night, I thought the blasted thing was never coming to an end! You have no idea what you do to me!” he leaned into him close to make a point, inhaled that warm heavenly scent of him and barely stopped himself from moaning.  
  
Up until now he wasn’t fully aware of how badly he needed it, his warm touch and over-whelming presence and oh, that motherfucking earthy scent of sex rolling off Ron – but it must have been true then, what he told the Mud… Granger, he’s really done his waiting and once this man proved everything he dreamed of and then some, he just couldn’t get enough of him, as if he was competing with time to make up for all the lost years. He simply didn’t want to let go and later on he told himself it must have been his gut feeling talking. But as it was – they couldn’t bury themselves behind the locked door of their private little heaven indefinitely; they were adults with responsibilities, friends, families…  _Families_.  
  
He tried to push the thought away, but once it was there, he couldn’t banish it completely. He knew he should have done the responsible thing by now and at least think it over, think carefully how to break the news – well, hardly the news anymore! - to his doubtlessly very upset and agitated parents – but his heart sunk every time he thought of it and he forced himself to push it away. He had no strength for his tonight, the confrontation with Granger took more out of him than he realized.  _Tomorrow_.  
  
He will deal with it tomorrow. And perhaps ask Ron how he’d done it. Not that he could ever hope to use the same recipe on his parents, god forbid, Father would have done  _exactly_  the opposite from Arthur Weasley just out of spite – but he needed to know that there was hope, that they were not going to get completely ostracised. He could care less about himself, but he had his son’s future to think about and… no, his plate was simply too full tonight. His worries were not likely to go away over night anyway and he needed a fresh head to ponder over it and come up with the most elegant solution. Tonight was for him. For him and his man. Finally,  _his_  man; the thought that inexplicably filled his heart with a strange kind of pride, elation, love and accomplishment. Tonight was for them. And he planned to take full advantage of it.  
  
So he did what he did best – took advantage of Ron’s temporary loss of sanity and unexpectedly launched for the bathroom, effectively locking the flabbergasted redhead out. In the face of loud protests, he merely explained - from behind the safely locked door - that Ron was already a bloody perfection, thus in no need to get groomed, while he could hardly expect a Malfoy to face the world looking thoroughly shagged out! And he didn’t disappoint. Somewhere during this marathon of a day he managed to grab a complete new set of robes and Ron made a mental note to check at Madame Malkin’s if they, perhaps, did home deliveries for the regulars. There was  _no way_  these were not tailor-made. They fit the stunning blond like a second skin and through his awe and admiration Ron couldn’t help but feeling the echo of the old insecurity gnawing at him – no matter how hard he tried, he would never look this dashing. But it was OK – this splendid young man right here decided he wanted to look dashing for him and – who was he, really, to question him and his taste in men…?  
  
The redhead, as usual, had no concept of his own attractiveness. He threw on a couple of cleansing charms – since the bathroom was out of his reach – and the best set of robes he could find – one could never go wrong with black, even if you’re a ginger – and he left the finishing touch, the much accursed bow tie, for Draco to handle. And as soon as the blond stepped into the radius of that intoxicating body heat, his self-control was as good as doomed.  
  
He could barely keep his eyes on the bow tie, they kept on darting at the long strong sun-kissed neck stretching out of the collar, over the broad shoulders that just seemed to invite him to hold onto them and into the tiny openings between the buttons of his shirt, where the pale skin shone through and had his imagination going places. He only had the years of Malfoyian drill to thank that he managed to make the bow tie into something halfway presentable, because his fingers just wouldn’t stay on their designated course and every time they slipped to touch the warm skin, Ron smiled at him blissfully. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing to him, and it was this knowledge that made Draco grind his teeth together and work his befuddled brain into finishing a bow.  
  
When he was finally done - though in five times the time it would normally have taken him, honestly, Mother would be appalled! – he placed the palms of his hands flat against his chest and allowed himself a look up into those smiling captivating eyes at long last.  
  
“There,” he said softly. “All done. But just so you know… I’ll be counting the seconds until I can take this off again.” And he kissed him, slowly, sensually, just to give him a taste of what he had in store for him and felt a surge of lust hit him hard when he heard him gasp and moan softly.  
  
“So… where are we going?” he made the effort to pull himself away, or he would have torn every last bit of garment off that sexy bastard and never let them leave.  
  
“Well… to The Silver Spoon, of course,” Ron answered matter-of-factly and he couldn’t help but smile ferally at the flabbergasted look in the grey eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of taking you any place other than the best! Besides, we have some unfinished business there, I believe, and I would kind of like to pick up where we left it, I enjoyed it there. I checked with the management and it turns out that, for the time being, there is no such thing as “no access” policy in place for the ferret-snogging-weasels – as long as we settle for one of those private lounges we occupied yesterday. It will be ready for us – it seems that the war hero’s galleons are not beyond their refined taste.”  
  
By the time he was finished, Draco’s shoulders already shook with an onslaught of barely suppressed laughter – Goddamn Weasel, he really didn’t give three fucks about anyone, did he!? Taking him to the same place – they’ll be firing the stunning charms left and right just to make it to the front door through the sea of reporters and admirers Ron didn’t even know he had! Restaurants like this one profited from dropping hints to social chronicles as to who might be expected on a certain night – if Ron wanted to flaunt him around, he could hardly have made a bolder choice! It was just such a… Weasley idea, nothing refined there, no style, just a straight sucker-punch to the under-belly of society. And after years of pining after him in secret, he had to admit he loved it. He wanted nothing more than to have their relationship acknowledged and if for once, they were not going to be subtle about it, he could live with that. That’s what you get for falling for Gryffindors: infectiously honest lot, that.  
  
So he kissed him one more time, inhaling the addictive scent he’s going to have to do without for a couple of hours – just a couple, he told himself – and then slipped his hand into the big palm, which immediately closed around him.  
  
“Take me,” he said simply. “Blow me away.”  
  
~  
  
“That’s it… they’ve left the flat,” Harry burst through the door of the dinning salon. “And even  _I_ can’t believe where they’ve had audacity to go…” He was still shaking his head in disbelief of the location his tracing charm was pointing out, but really – it was  _so Ron_  to do that, to look for the simplest, most unexpected solution. They will be seen and noted as an item and yet enjoy a perfectly private dinner together.  _Perfect_. Or at least, it would have been, if it wasn’t rotten Malfoy benefiting from Ron’s little plan for the evening. This way, they were going to have to be careful – it was not only his marriage on the line, but possibly his career and – if the old man forgot himself – Lucius’s freedom. But Ron was worth it. Harry needed him back in his life, he needed him desperately, he had missed him dreadfully.  
  
“Are you ready?” he checked with the Master of the Malfoy Manor and when he was given nothing but a raised eyebrow and a haughty look practically barking “I was born ready!” at him, he simply nodded curtly and warned him one more time: “Do not underestimate them, either of them, do you hear me? Saviour or not, I’ve got nothing on Ron’s reflexes but the element of surprise and don’t you expect your son to fall flat at your feet when you all but look at him sternly – I’ve seen him stand up for himself and this delusional idea of love he’s nursing and I’m telling you, it’ll take more than exerting your fatherly authority to have him break!”  
  
“I believe I know my son, Mr. Potter!” Lucius hissed coldly through gritted teeth. “I will break this insane liaison with the blood… with Mr. Weasley, or I will shatter him to pieces!”  
  
And for a moment there Harry simply froze in the thought of how  _very wrong_  it was, what they were about to do, how utterly mad it was that he had someone as vicious as Lucius Malfoy set on Ron, his Ron, the very Ron he would gladly die for - but he could no longer stop the freight train of events he had set in motion. So he merely nodded and said: “Then let’s do this!”  
  
As soon as the echo of two sounds of apparition faded, Narcissa Malfoy let the disillusionment charm drop. It was time and the cold hard numbness that settled over her told her how very important it was to let her magnificent mind take control. She could not afford a single mistake. So she turned to the tiny creature standing behind her, shaking and barely holding back the squeals of terror and ordered sternly: “Wheezy, you know what to do. Follow your instructions to the letter and when the time comes, do your magic. Go to the young Master and never, not under any circumstances, leave his side. You are not to be parted. He is the most precious thing in this house tonight.”  
  
~  
  
“Bloody hell… that was something!” Ron collapsed onto the expensive looking chair of their private lounge, clearly still in a shock from the whole ordeal they had put themselves through. “There were more people in front of that restaurant door than in the Final Battle! They should have given that poor soul of a valet a club to get rid of all the Skeeter’s minions and godknowswhats! And they wanted my  _autograph_ … why on Merlin’s bloody Earth would  _anyone_  want my autograph?! One woman even wanted it on her bits, imagine that!”  
  
He stared at Draco in confusion and the blond couldn’t hold back a genuine laughter. As lovely as his man was, he was also as blind as a bat when it came to his own stunning effect on people and, sadly, completely oblivious to the levels of his fame.  
  
“C’mon, Weasley,” he couldn’t help but tease. “I can’t believe that in all the years after war no one’s ever asked you for an autograph? There were life-size posters of you out there, for Merlin’s sake!”  
  
“Well, no one ever did,” said the redhead stubbornly. “I was always with Harry and, unless you noticed, the man has a way of grabbing the attention of the crowds. Well, there was this one guy in the Church who had me and Hermione married – that one wanted my signature, but I suppose the whole marriage thing wouldn’t hold without it. And - wait, there was another man once, when I took my wife to a Muggle restaurant… but then he was just as happy when  _she_  signed… Mione said it had something to do with the payment – I believe they call it “check” – though I never got around asking her how they “check” your signature if you’re good for your money… eh, Muggles, who’d know what they’re on about! Anyway, I’m not used to such herds of people pursuing me!”  
  
“I believe you still  _might_  have over-reacted a bit… perhaps pulling that reporter’s notebook from his hands and smacking him over the head with it was a bit … imprudent, shall we say?” Draco offered calmly, but with no small amount of amusement – he couldn’t begin to count the times when he longed to do just that!  
  
“Well, he was in my face! Oh, bloody hell, it was my Auror reflexes taking charge, he should have known better than to wave a potential harmful object in front of my nose! Poor Harry, I would have gone bonkers years ago, if I had to put up with  _that_  with no end in sight! Well, one thing is certain, Malfoy – as much as I love flaunting you around and I hope that _exceedingly hot_  kiss we shared is going to make it to the front pages of every single wizarding publication in England – I’m done with this publicity stuff, I’d much rather enjoy that pretty little mouth of yours doing wonders… yeah, uhm… something like this… oh, something  _exactly_  like this… in the privacy of my home, if you don’t mind…”  
  
Some time during his monologue Draco decided that the precious short moments before their order came were well worth exploiting to serve his true interest and shut him up with a well-planned, well-aimed kiss that had immediate desired effect: the warm mouth he couldn’t keep his eyes off stopped rambling and surrendered without further ado. He loved kissing him. He loved having those soft red lips open for him, granting him access, charging him with a pressure so erotic in nothing but seconds, he barely remembered his own name. This was just too good to be true. And it was.  
  
The very moment their kiss turned needy, sensuous and intense, there was a sudden low sound of apparition, to pops following one another so quickly they almost sounded as one, and the shadow stretched over the table bathing in discrete light.  
  
“Hello, Ron,” said Harry Potter as soon as the couple’s lips broke apart and the blue eyes stared at him in disbelief. And without further ado, he grabbed his best mate by his upper-arm and disapparated them away.  
  
And the next thing Draco knew, he was staring across the table into the cold grey steel of Father’s eyes. He had never seen him so livid.  
  
“Good evening, son. I believe we need to have a word.”


	13. Bend or break, son

“Potter, you _fucking idiot!_ ”  
  
The only thing on Ron’s mind, once he apparated next to Harry, was blind rage. He had a temper, he always had one, but not like this. For the first time in his life he felt what his mother must have felt during one of her fits – there was nothing there except a leaden ball of white-hot heat pressing at the veins of his forehead that made him want to  _murder_  the man at his side. Unfortunately for him – or perhaps not, because killing the Saviour might not have been beneficial to one’s life prospects – Harry expected him to have some kind of violent reaction. The second they appeared in the dinner parlour of the Manor, so did the thick black ropes around Ron’s body, effectively tying him up like a bundle. Of course that didn’t stop the redhead from trying to launch himself at his best mate, but as soon as he tried to take a step, he fell down flat. And the raven-haired youth jumped to the ceiling:  
  
“I’m sorry!! Merlin, Ron, I’m sorry! Are you hurt?! God, please tell me you’re not hurt.”  
  
“I.Will.Fucking. _Murder_  you, Potter!!!” came a deafening roar and Harry jumped away on instinct. God, those Prewett genes were awful! The Chosen One or not, one couldn’t help but wince in the face of such overwhelming passion. No wonder Bellatrix went down, Ron’s mother probably bullied her into dying!  
  
“Jesus, Ron… love… please, calm down… I had to… Forgive me, but it was necessary. You were being irrational and…”  
  
“Oh, I’m the irrational one!?  _Me_?! Being tied up in one of Lucius Malfoy’s torture chambers because you don’t agree with who I feel in love with… and you’re calling  _me_  irrational!?” Ron’s incredulous face was so red it was close to purple and the vein in his forehead threatened to jump out and strangle Harry on its own - and for the first time since this whole madness started, Harry Potter really doubted his ability to fix this. It looked by the time he was done, Ron might have already given himself a heart-attack!  
  
Time for action then, he can’t have his very tied up best friend bully him, he had a reputation of being fearless to uphold, for fuck’s sake! Besides, Ron had mentioned  _love_  in connection to the  _very wrong_  person and that had  _really_  rubbed Harry the wrong way.  
  
“Calm down! Christ Almighty, you’re seeing everything distorted, just listen to yourself!” he barked at his clearly frantic best-friend. “It’s not a torture chamber… it’s a dinner parlour at the Malfoy Manor and …”  
  
“Oh, you mean, much like the one Hermione was  _tortured_  in? Now, that’s a relief – as long as it’s not that  _very_  one, I’m sure the rest of the house is a fucking spa!” Ron spat at him, still unrelenting, his blue eyes aflame and so fucking beautiful , Harry had to fight his every instinct not to release him and kiss him stupid and beg him forgiveness. This was Ron, his Ron, and he was hurting him… But it had to be done, he was not being himself these past few days, he’ll come around and then they’ll talk and he’ll have his best mate back. It’s just… he needed him to calm down and start seeing things his way. Now, how hard was that? Apparently… next to impossible.  
  
“Ron, will you listen to me? Just listen… please,” he tried in a calmer tone and hoped desperately it would work wonders. And he was granted a small break at last. Ron stopped squirming and lift his head up to look him straight in the face.  
  
“Release me,” he said, suddenly in a calmer, almost professional voice and Harry’s blood  _really_  began to run cold. Ron had never used his professional voice on him before, his  _void-of-emotion-let’s-get-down-to-business-you’re-so-getting-murdered-you-just-don’t-know-it-yet_  voice he had heard him use so many times on the people they brought in as part of their work – and as much as it pained him, he realized it would be a grave mistake to release the redhead now. Possibly a lethal one.  
  
“I can’t,” he said miserably and tried once again. “Please hear me out…”  
  
“No, you hear me out, Harry Potter!” barked the redhead and Harry had a feeling he would have stomped his foot down if he could. “I would have liked to look you in the eye as I say this, but I can’t, since you had me tied up like a bludger in a box, as if I’m the one you have to fear… but it’s not.”  
  
Ron’s voice softened at those last words. “Perhaps you don’t know that, but I’d rather die than hurt you, Harry. I once hoped to feel for you what I feel for Draco Malfoy now, for one very brave, very loving Draco Malfoy that’s willing to give me everything you ever refused me: respect, unconditional love, even my freedom to walk away, if I chose to. All the things you never would. And you left him to the mercy of his father who has a fucking millstone in his chest instead of a heart and who will do his best to break this fragile thing we put so much of ourselves in… What you can’t have, you’d rather break, is that is, Harry? Because you rejected me one too many times and I gave my heart to another - will you break him and break me, so you can prove…  _what_? That no one fuck’s with the Saviour, no one takes what is his, even if it’s a heart he had so carelessly thrown away on so many occasions? Is  _that_  who you are, Harry Potter? And you’re asking me to love you?  _Like this_?”  
  
“No, not like this… God, Ron… please… you don’t have to love me... though I want you to… very much.” At this point there was nothing but despair and misery etched in Harry Potter’s voice and his tone was almost pleading: “I’ve got so much to give you and I’m finally ready… I told Ginny, I’ll tell the rest of the world about us, about how long has this been going on….  _Anything_ … I’ll do anything you want. And even if you don’t want… if I’ve missed it, what we could have had, I can live with that, just… Don’t break yourself over someone who’s not worth your beautiful splendid heart, Ron. Don’t break yourself over him, over Malfoy, who never did anything but hate you, put you down, humiliate you and now, manipulate you. How can you hope to feel something for a scum like that?! It’s not love you feel, it can’t be…”  
  
“Oh, but it is, Harry and if you were man enough to look me in the face when I say this, you’d know the truth. It so happens, I fell in love with Draco Malfoy and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Even Ginny recognised it beyond any doubt and in my family, we know something about love. And because we know something about it, Harry, and you don’t, cause you grew up without it like no one ever should… I forgive you. But I refuse to be tied to you by anything but love that could have been – and friendship.”  
  
He looked straight at him, as much as his bonds allowed it, desperate green meeting the unmistakable sadness in those deep blue eyes, then focused on the ropes that bound him, stretched his long fingers flat and quietly spoke the word: “ _Incendio_!”  
  
The ropes started smouldering immediately and his face contorted in pain. The expression on Harry Potter’s face was one of pure alarm.  
  
“No, Ron! Stop, you crazy fuckwit, stop, what the hell are you doing?!”  
  
“Showing you, what love feels like, Potter. I’ll do anything for my man. I’ll burn, if I have to. I would have done it for you in a heartbeat, the way I’m doing it for Draco now, but you would have let me burn and still wouldn’t let me have your fucking heart! _God, this shit hurts_!” he howled in the end and closed his eyes not to lose a grip on his wandless magic. By the end of his words, Harry’s voice was mad with panic:  
  
“No, Ron, please… stop, I’ll release you… please, just don’t hurt yourself! Here,  _Finite_ …”  
  
But he got no further than that. All of the sudden he seemed to have frozen mid-sentence and without a warning he collapsed flat on his face like a cut down log, his green eyes still wide open in shock. At the same moment Ron’s bonds disappeared and the redhead’s first instinct was to dive towards Harry and check for signs of life.  
  
“Sweet Merlin, Harry, are you alright? C’mon, mate, wake up, talk to me...”  
  
“He can’t,” a pleasant cool voice of Narcissa Malfoy answered from behind his back and Ron turned abruptly and fumed at her.  
  
“What did you do to him!? I swear to god, woman, if you hurt him...”  
  
“Calm down, Mr. Weasley! Honestly... I’m afraid I must insist that you do, or I can’t hope to answer any questions you might have. Oh, my, what an unfortunate temper! You really do your Mother credit, you know! Not to mention the wonderful display of wandless magic – a brilliant move there, if I say so myself! Please accept my congratulations – and my sincere apologies. I have thought you... well, perhaps incompetent is not the right word, but  _wanting in skill_  for years, it was beyond my comprehension what you could have possibly contributed to the victory of our precious Saviour here, but I see myself mistaken now. You truly are quite a gifted young man, aren’t you? No wonder my Draco fell for you so spectacularly!”  
  
“For Merlin’s sake, woman, quit chattering and help me out here, can’t you see he’s hurt!? Perhaps flattering will get you places if you’re a life-long Slytherin, but I really don’t need your sweet words right now, I’d much rather have your help, if you don’t mind!”  
  
“Quite,” said Narcissa with a small smile playing at her lips. “Efficient as well. Yes, I definitely see the potential...And in addition to your rather obvious... physical attributes, I can see why my son never stood a chance... But you are right, of course, time is of value here, so do allow me to let you in on my little plan for the night, if you please. If I make you a promise, that I am  _absolutely_  on the side of my son and consequently on  _your_  side, will you let me speak without interruption?”  
  
With a single haughty eyebrow raised, she watched him try to put reins on his temper and couldn’t help thinking that her son could have done a lot worse for himself. The young man here was clearly competent, fearless, soaked with integrity – a true son of Arthur’s then – and judging by his own admission, he loved her son beyond doubt. She meant to ask him about that, she trusted her motherly instinct that she would have been able to pass the judgement of this man’s true feelings for her son – but after a rather gryffindorish action of self-sacrifice, this hardly seemed necessary.  It would do Draco a world of good to share his life with someone capable of such passion and compassion. And those muscles, oh  _my_... one could almost forgive him for being a redhead, especially because it  _did_  bring his lovely eyes forward most appealingly... She was woken up from her dwellings by his harsh voice.  
  
“Alright, then. But only because you’re his mother and I know Draco thinks most highly of you. Speak then, explain yourself and... this,” Ron finally spoke, pointing out at Harry. “Though I don’t see how you can. But for god’s sake hurry up, my boyf... your son has been stuck with that monster you call a husband for far too long.”  
  
“I would appreciate it if you stopped insulting my family, Mr. Weasley, I believe I have yet to speak derogatively of yours, yes? Now, where we? Oh, yes. The small matter of Mr. Potter here being unconscious. I’m afraid for now it must remain so, it is absolutely vital that he has no recollection of what will take place tonight – and after tonight I will entrust it upon you to bring him to his sense when it comes to your... relationship with my son. I assure you he will awake tomorrow morning with nothing graver than a headache, but right now we need Harry Potter out and  _out flat_ , do you understand me? Do not, by any means, try to revive him or make him aware of himself and of what we’re about to do. Do I have your word?” She stared at him, sharp blue eyes testifying of her cold intellect focused upon him and he merely nodded his acquiescence. Draco’s mother was far scarier than Draco’s father ever was.  
  
“Good. I will trust it on your Gryffindor honour that you will keep your promise, though unspoken. Now, here’s what we’ll do...”  
  
~  
  
“There’s not much to say, Father,” Draco did his best to speak as impassively and as coldly as the very man in front of him had tried to drill into him for years – but his hands holding on to the utensils tightly enough to turn the knuckles white betrayed him. He knew he was not fast enough to go for his wand as Lucius clearly had his ready – and what hex could he hope to fire at his own father in the middle of the prestigious restaurant, really? Half of the world would be most pleased to find out that the Malfoys finally jumped at each other’s throats and they’d put them both away gladly!  
  
His only hope was to keep his composure and deal with whatever this merciless man had in stock for him. He could apparate away – but that would only delay the inevitable and speak volumes of the discomfort, even fear, he couldn’t help feeling in the presence of his father. But this was as good opportunity as any to stand up for himself, for them, if they ever hoped to have a future together  – Ron has done it, hasn’t he and anything one Gryffindor could do, he could do better! So basically – it was now or never.  
  
He looked Father directly into the stormy grey eyes and spoke as conversationally as he could, hoping his father will chose to remain civil in so public a place:  
  
 “I would have mentioned my... attraction to the younger Mr. Weasley to you years ago – and believe me, there has been one present for over a decade now – but I had little hope to find understanding with you, didn’t I? Therefore I chose to keep it private – I never really expected anything to come out of it in any event, not until I was recently offered a very fortunate opportunity to turn things in my favour. But judging by your demeanour, you are displeased - as I very well expected you to be - and possibly a little bit... thrown out of balance, shall we say, by this revelation. I’m sure you must have questions, so please, do not hesitate to ask me anything you want and I will do my best to answer your fatherly concerns as honestly as I can.”  
  
“Well, not questions really, just one... one question,” hissed the elder Malfoy, his eyes almost anthracite colour in barely suppressed rage as he leaned further with a clear purpose of intimidation: “Are you out of your bloody mind?! Arthur Weasley’s son!!! Of all people!!! His  _son_ , boy! It would have been bad enough if it was the daughter of the darned blood-traitor, but this is his  _son_ , we’re talking about!  _A man!_  How could you  _ever_  hope to take this anywhere!? And how _dare_ you make a public spectacle out of this farce of a relationship?!”  
  
“Yes, well, yes... I have long ago noticed this specific trait of his anatomy. Sadly, Ronald Weasley seems to be very much a man and unfortunately, I have discovered myself with a preference for that particular gender. Or perhaps, it was just him... Not that it matters now – I have followed every one of your wishes, I married  _and_  produced an heir to the Malfoy name, I cannot possibly see the problem in wishing to pursue my true interests from now on.”  
  
“By Salazaar’s beard, you will stop with this nonsense and stop with it _directly_ , boy! I demand that you return with me to the Manor at once, where - might I remind you - your son awaits your return most eagerly, and forget this Weasley business this minute! I am willing to forgive your... transgressions and we will speak of it no more, though Merlin knows, others will and it might take us  _years_  to undo the damage of your foolish actions!”  
  
“Or else?” Draco interrupted coldly. Sometime during his father’s speech a Black defiance flared to life inside him and his carefully concealed temper dangerously approached the boiling point. “What, Father?! You will kidnap me like Potter did my man and then what?! Take me to the Malfoy dungeons and torture me until a break? We both know you are barely allowed to use your wand to light a fireplace without supervision and should any dark curse be fired from it, you will have earned yourself a lengthy visit of Azkaban! Also – kindly be reminded that  _I am of age_ and have been so for a considerable number of years and I will not be intimidated by my own father, thank you very much!”  
  
“If you believe that I would ever hex my own son, you are very much mistaken! As much as it pains me to see you so disobedient and defiant, your mother would murder me in my bed should I ever lay a finger on you. But I can take from you what is mine – and I will.”  
  
He looked him coldly in the eyes and waited for his words to sink in.  
  
“Father...” Draco Malfoy leaned across the table to demonstrate how very pissed off and unafraid his father’s words have left him: “Let’s get one thing perfectly clear... Are you threatening to disown me? Is that what this is all about?”  
  
“I am and it is. You will be left with nothing. Effective immediately, should you refuse me.”  
  
“Oh, in that case... Oh, how fortunate. Do come in, Antoine, if it is not a bother. I believe you do know my father, yes?” The elderly waiter who entered to check if the esteemed guests had everything they needed at their disposal, paled visibly at the sight of Lucius Malfoy. He looked at Draco in confusion, certain that the person he had earlier admitted into the private lounge next to young Malfoy was not  _this_  man – but stranger things have happened in the wizarding world, perhaps the man had been polyjuiced for whatever obscure reason and in any event – it was not his place to question these things. He just knew that Lucius Malfoy was a person who did not enjoy being introduced to the staff as if they were his equals and he struggled hopelessly to resolve the inconvenient position he found himself in. As it was, he barely managed a civil reply:  
  
“I... of course, I have met Mr. Malfoy on numerous occasions, Sir. Your parents were somewhat our regulars before... for the longest of time,” he barely managed to avoid a snake-pit of mentioning that blasted war. At this point he was quietly cursing Malfoy Junior for having dragged him in the middle of this impossible situation and cursing his own stupidity for not taking a day off after yesterday’s scandal. His nerves were frayed enough at all that unwanted publicity and that blasted Skeeter woman all but _raped_ him with her obnoxious Quill! And now this... The rich and their mind-games were slowly but surely taking a considerable toll on him and this was just one of those moments when he promised himself for the millionth time that he will start looking for a less stressful position, though he could never hope to see the tips he regularly received anywhere else. But it was what it was for now and he had to do his best to get out of the unpleasant situation, hopefully with his job still unscathed.  
  
“Excellent, no introductions are necessary, then,” said Draco Malfoy in a pleasant voice, but his eyes, silver with a feral glow, never left his father’s face. “ You see, Father, I was here with my lover yesterday, hoping to enjoy a private dinner in peace, when Mr. Potter interrupted us most rudely and we were forced to leave without paying for the lovely dinner we never managed to consume. I’m afraid the events of last night are likely to repeat themselves: Mr. Potter had yet again stormed in, effectively kidnapping the lovely Mr. Weasley, who promised to pay for my dinner. Now, Antoine – ” he turned to the hapless waiter who would clearly rather be at any other place but here. “Since I can barely ask my father here, who strongly disapproves of my liason with the said Mr. Weasley, to pay for our dinner and I have - very unfortunately indeed -  found myself disinherited quite suddenly and with no prospects to visit this lovely place again – I would like to conclude our professional relationship by paying with the only thing I  _have_  left.”  
  
With these words he removed a massive silver signet ring of the House of Malfoy from his right hand and put it straight into the pocket of a flabbergasted waiter.  
  
“ _There_. I believe that should be more than enough to cover the costs of both dinners and a hefty tip on top of it as I am told it is priceless. I’m sure my father here would be most happy to purchase it from you after we’ve concluded our lovely family conversation. After all, there is nothing more valued in my father’s eyes than our heirloom. The pure blood. The name. The ring. All of it –  _worthless_  to me, because I chose a heart instead... but I suppose I did not get disinherited without a reason, did I?”  
  
For a second, the expression on his father’s face was  _so_  worth it. Grey eyes, so alike his own, were lit with infernal rage and for a moment there Lucius’s fingers contracted viciously around the holder of his walking stick, concealing his wand... but then an old aristocrat managed to get a hold of himself and silently stretched out his arm with the open palm towards the waiter without even looking at him. No words were needed. Antoine put the precious ring into the palm of his hand obediently and as swiftly as if it was made of hot coals and Lucius spoke most chillingly:  
  
“Thank you. Put it on my tab. Now  _get out_!”  
  
Antoine didn’t need to be told twice. He ran as if the fiendfyre was behind him, ready to swear on everyone he loved that this was the last time he had served any of the capricious Malfoys; the bloody lot was mad, every last one of them!  
  
“Who would have said you have such a flare for theatrics, my dear Draco,” Malfoy Senior smirked at his fuming son and something in his predatory demeanour made the hairs on Draco’s neck rise in alert. “Bravo! I would have applauded your performance, but it does seem inappropriate since we’ve both lost so much. So you have given it all up for Weasley... Congratulations, you must think yourself such a  _romantic hero_! Let’s hope your considerably poorer blood-traitor of a lover can keep you warm at night with what little he owns. And he does have two children of his own, I’m told. Very well, then, perhaps you can drill some of Malfoyian spirit and manners into those insolent brats as you are  _never likely to see your own son again_.”  
  
“What do you mean?! Where is Scorpius? What have you done with him?!” A sudden onslaught of alarm that washed over Draco erased all traces of victory and left the blond with nothing but an over-powering feeling of helplessness and frenzied panic.  
  
“I’ve done nothing I don’t have the right to,” Lucius snapped at his son. “I believe I have demonstrated successfully over the years that I would never hurt my own flesh and blood… not outside the boundaries of appropriate, or course,” he smirked coldly and Draco felt as if a freezing hand squeezed his heart solid at a sudden memory of a tiny boy left shivering in one of the many dungeons of the Manor for the night, simply for having disobeyed his father. The boy was himself once, many years ago, but what if it was to be his precious baby as well?! He found the thought unbearable.  
  
“But you disappoint me yet again. I was certain I have drilled the laws of magical inheritance into you better than that. Surely you remember that every pureblood house is entitled to an heir if it is able to produce one. And should an heir waiver his right to his heirloom for whatever reason, the next in line is to be appointed an heir and all the inheritance is magically transferred to him. By waivering your inheritance, you bind your son as the next heir to the House of Malfoy – and you  _have no right to him._   _Not anymore._  Not from the moment you chose to give it all away. But I, as the current master of the House of Malfoy, very well do. He belongs to  _me_  now, the inheritance will be passed from me directly onto him and you are, as of this moment, nothing. I hereby ban you from ever entering the Manor again. You are stripped of all your possessions that come with the name of Malfoy, including your son. I have the legal right to him now, I have the right to raise him, he is  _mine_  until he is 17. Plenty of time to teach the boy manners, to teach him that it would not do to crave contact with his outcast father. “  
  
“Give me back my son.” The voice that came out of his strained throat was barely recognisable. That was the only thing on Draco’s mind. Gone was the proud youth standing up to his father for the first time; the need to hold and protect his own child was so overwhelming he could think of nothing else. He felt as if all of his insides pulsated as one giant heart, filled to the brim with love and fear for his son and at that moment there was no urge more powerful than that to be with his baby and save him from this monster.  
  
“Too late, Draco. You have forfeited it all, your name, your inheritance, your precious son. I will raise him as my own. And I will be sure to make a better job out of it than I have done with you.”  
  
“Please... Father... Dad...” The urgency in his son's voice was so overwhelming, his voice so full of despair and almost child-like, that Lucius knew for certain he had broken him. And then there was this word… He had never called him “dad” before. It was something unheard of, something Malfoys didn’t do, yet it seemed to touch something inside of him that he didn’t even know was there and prompted him to move on even more brutally to overrun the urge to give into his son’s pleas. Lucius Malfoy had a heart. He just rarely chose to follow it.  
  
“Unless, of course... you are willing to be reasonable,” he took pity of him at long last, after he was sure he had made his point. “You will come to the Manor with me at once and you will make the Unbreakable Vow with your mother as a witness that you will  _never_  go near that Weasley spawn again. And I mean  _never_! And you will leave your...  _job_... disgusting... and you will be a proper father to your son and a husband to your wife and once I am gone, a Lord of the Malfoy Manor. Then you may do as you please.  _As long as the Vow still holds_ ,” he smirked at him ruthlessly and stared at his ashen white son with no remorse, no compassion for his obvious distress.  
  
“You’re killing me,” said Draco quietly, his voice barely above the whisper. “And you will not rest until I’m  dead. Why do you hate me so? What have I ever done to you but followed your every order, went against every instinct I had to save you and Mother from that monster, gave your precious house an heir – and still you won’t let me keep anything of mine. Must you have my heart as well? Because I will die without it, surely.” He stared down his father’s unrelenting eyes, and though there was a slight quiver inside them as if his words reached past the hard shell around this man’s soul, Lucius Malfoy never backed down.  
  
“Very well,” Draco said, sounding every bit defeated. “You made me chose and this is my decision...”  
  
He never got farther than that. With a sudden soft pop of apparition, Narcissa Malfoy appeared in the lounge and the look on her face was one of alarm.  
  
“Narcissa, darling! Is there something the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”  
  
“There has been a most… unfortunate development. Someone attacked Harry Potter in our dinner parlour and he’s lying there unconscious with that Weasley person gone! I have personally seen Potter tie the man down before I went to tuck Scorpius in bed, so it could not have been him – but someone has clearly done it and we’ll be to blame!”  
  
“Merlin, woman… are you sure?! Who could have done such a wretched thing!? Hardly anyone has access and…”  
  
“But we had to lower the wards to let that Weasley boy in, didn’t we?! Anyone with a bit of skill, good information and foul intent could have done it! We might have kept it quiet, but perhaps something of our intentions... slipped Potter, the foolish Gryffindor that he is! Perhaps who ever has done it is still at the Manor! You must come with me at once! Should anyone find an unconscious Harry Potter in our home, the consequences would be disastrous!”  
  
The Lord of the Manor paled considerably at these words: “Indeed!” he murmured and looked at his son sharply: “Draco…”  
  
“For Merlin’s sake, have you gone mad!? Leave him be! He can’t come! Everyone knows he’s at odds with Potter for messing about with his best friend, we can’t have him implicated! Regardless of who had done it – he will be the one to blame and I won’t allow it! He is still our son and I won’t see him taken to Azkaban for something he couldn’t possibly have done! But if you leave him here, he can hardly hope for a better alibi than to spend his evening in this place seen by as many people as possible!”  
  
“I suppose… you’re right, as always, darling,” Lucius admitted begrudgingly. “Let’s see what we can make of this impossible mess! Draco – be kind enough to call that... person, that waiter you seem to be on such friendly terms with – have him witness your presence after I’m gone and do not presume to take leave yourself! I shall be back promptly and I expect to find you here. And you  _will_  live to your part of the agreement, do you hear me?”  
  
“I hear you… Father…” Draco’s voice was barely audible and so broken Narcissa just about stopped herself from poking a fork through her husband’s ear for making her baby so miserable. But she kept her face impassive as she took hold of her husband’s arm and allowed herself to be side-apparated away.


	14. Narcissa Malfoy's "simple" plan

With his parents finally gone, the rest of Draco’s composure crumbled. Utterly miserable, his face sunk into the palms of his hands and he let out a deep shudder. He felt there was no way he could survive this, he could see no end to the misery he was drowning in. Barely holding to the edge of sanity as it was, he thought he was hallucinating when there was another soft pop of apparition and he was suddenly immersed into a soothing embrace made up of familiar warm strong arms and silken scented hair.  
  
“Am I dead, then?” Unaware of the tears streaming down his face Draco looked up and straight into the eyes of his favourite shade of blue. “I must be... you’re here and he’s gone and... he’s got my baby! Ron, he’s got my son, my Scorpius! And he’s going to take him away! For good! Unless I give you up... forgive me, sweet Merlin, please forgive me, Ron, but I must...”  
  
“Shhhh... calm down, love... please... it’s going to be alright. You would've been right to give me up, I wouldn’t expect any different from you. I’m a father myself, I understand. But not to worry – he’s not taking your son from you, we’re not going to let him, are we?”  
  
Ron spoke softly, all the while wiping the tears off the blond’s face, planting much needed gentle kisses of reassurance on his face, until he saw him visibly brighten again. “There... all better now. We must hurry up, though, there’s much to do. By the way – do you know you have a genius for a mother? What a brilliant woman! If the Dark Lord had let her plan the war for him, we would have been doomed! Right lucky we were he chose your mad aunt as his wingman instead!  
  
Now... your mother informed me your father came here to disown you – did he get around doing that? Yes? Blimey… Oh, I suppose there’s not much for it now. But how…? She says he could only do it if you gave up your inheritance voluntarily, so I suppose… now, why on Merlin’s bloody earth would you ever do that!?”  
  
Ron stared at him genuinely surprised and in spite of his misery, a single sad smile escaped through Draco’s tears: “Cause he told me to choose between you and my inheritance, silly… So I gave it up. Gladly… right up until the moment when he informed me that being disowned also meant giving up my son. To him, to the current Lord of the House of Malfoy to raise. And I can’t do it… not even for us, Ron. I can’t doom my own flesh and blood to be raised like I was, I just can’t…”  
  
“And I told you – you won’t have to,” Ron cut through his words, partly because they needed to act swiftly to counter the acts of Lucius Malfoy – and partly because he found it unbearable to face any more of Draco’s sorrow. It just made him want to apparate back to the Manor and strangle the man.  _No magic._  Just his bare fists. “Now – were there any witnesses to you giving up your inheritance? Think carefully, your mother says this is of vital importance! With your word against his, Lucius doesn’t have a damn thing to prove and… “  
  
“Antoine. Antoine, the waiter. He knows. I tried to pay with the Malfoy signet ring for those two unfortunate dinners from hell - ” Ron’s eyes got impossibly big at these words, “… and I might have mentioned it in the process that I’ve been disinherited. Just Antoine… no one else,” he looked at Ron almost apologetically because he knew he had blundered yet again and someone is going to have to fix it.  
  
“Well, Antoine is going to have to be dealt with, I’m afraid,” said Ron calmly. “Summon the man, will you?”  
  
Draco rang a small silver bell that seemingly made no sound, but moments later Antoine appeared at the door of their lounge. And the confusion on his face at the sight of Ron – Ron again, not Lucius! - would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so grave.  
  
“Antoine… good evening again,” said Ron in his most pleasant voice. “I’m here tonight on somewhat semi-official business and I would really need your cooperation. Would you be so kind to approach?”  
  
The elderly waiter visibly relaxed at the friendly tone of the celebrated war hero and he hurried to do his bidding: “But of course, in which  _ever_ way I can be of service, Sir…”  
  
“This,” said Ron and smiled at him sweetly, “is not going to hurt one bit.  _Obliviate_!”  
  
The wand was at the old waiter’s temple so fast he never saw it coming and before any sign of alarm managed to cross his face, it had already dissolved into a blank impassive expression. But Draco couldn’t hide how bone shocked he was.  
  
“Ron!” he hissed in panic. “Have you gone mad?! That’s illegal! You can’t run around obliviating people! That’s…what if someone finds out?”  
  
But the redhead only smiled, a tiny tired smile of a professional Auror who knew how to push his limits when the situation called for it: “Relax. No one is going to find out. And it’s not illegal for Aurors, it’s actually quite a regular part of our job. A hex could have been a problem, but this – we’re not always fortunate enough to do our jobs without any Muggle witnesses present and hardly a week goes by that I don’t have to obliviate someone,” he smirked and after a short pause added softly: “Anything for love, Draco.”  
  
And the any objections the blond might have had died with these words. Ron ruffled his hair lovingly and then his blue eyes smiled almost naughtily.  
  
“Besides, I’m not entirely to blame - it was your mother’s idea. She sent me here with a very specific set of instructions in case we were too late to stop your father. It certainly beats getting rid of Antoine, which is what your father would have done, should the his information not play in his favour,” he shrugged almost matter-of-factly and before he turned away, Draco realized that he was not only looking at Ron, his lover, who came back to save him from the pits of misery, but also at Ron Weasley, Senior Auror, a man hardened at his job and well-versed in the art of distilling just the right amount of information to achieve the maximum effect. And it hitched his breath and it helped him push his sorrow aside: watching Ron go all business-like made him hard almost instantly and, however inappropriate, there was nothing he could do about that.  
  
But Ron was unaware of the hundred and one way in which he was making Draco Malfoy melt and heal at the same time. He had already focused on the hapless waiter in front of him and spoke adamantly:  
  
“The only people you saw in this lounge tonight are Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley, no one else. Should anyone inquire about that, you have no recollection of seeing Lucius Malfoy this evening, you would have remembered the distinguished gentleman. Your shift is done for the night. And you’ve considered the matter most carefully, but the stress of the job has finally become overwhelming and you’ve decided on an early retirement. In your pocket there is a paper with a number, a password and a key for the vault in the Gringotts Bank. All your savings are in there and it is enough for you to enjoy your old age in peace and comfort. You should go to your superior immediately and inform him that you are not feeling well. Hand in your written resignation by tomorrow’s Owl post. By that time you should already be well on your way to your much deserved retirement. Make it somewhere off the English soil, at least for a year or so. Go now!”  
  
And Antoine went, a sudden determination and purpose clearly etched into his face.  _Just like that._  The door barely clicked behind him when Draco launched himself at the redhead and pulled him into a heated kiss.  
  
“Bloody hell… that was… brilliant,” he breathed into his mouth and barely stopped himself from moaning. “And hot!” he added before he took full advantage of that worshiped soft mouth that was able to go from commanding to luxuriously gentle within moments. This time he moaned with no reservations: “Auror Weasley… you have no idea what you do to me…”  
  
And Ron must have felt it how much he needed it, this solid warm affection, that special feeling that he was desired and loved that evaded him for so long and which he had come so close to losing again.  
  
“Oh, baby…” he whispered softly and returned his ministrations as best as he could hope to. “You have no idea what I’m still about to do to you, gorgeous... but not now...” He kissed him thoroughly one last time, enough to give him hope that not all was lost and then tore himself from the shattered blond gently and looked him in the eyes, suddenly all business once again: “Right now we need to protect you. You can’t meet your father again, not until this bloody mess is over. So you need to go with me to the only safe place I can think of – and then you need sit tight and trust me. If everything goes according to plan, you should have your son by your side in the morning.”  
  
When Draco Malfoy looked at him with a hundred unanswered questions in his eyes, Ron just smiled and apparated them away. And when they landed in front of the small house, elaborately upgraded into one story after another, that looked as if it was merely held together by magic and determination of its owners, Ron looked at him solemnly.  
  
“Draco Malfoy, time to meet my family.”  
  
~  
  
When Ron knocked onto the door of the unstable looking building –  _“we can’t apparate, the wards are not set to let you through”_  – the construction actually shook.  Following the look of alarm on blond’s face, the redhead smiled with an almost childish pride: “Don’t worry. The Burrow will outlast us all! It survived the Death Eater attack, it had to be partially rebuilt after the fire and what my mother fixes does not dare break again! Mom!”  
  
He enthusiastically hugged a short round woman that answered the door and who squealed most happily in delight of seeing her sorely missed son so soon, but then she pulled away from him just as abruptly and asked with a stern undertone in her kind voice:  
  
“Ronald Weasley! What have you done?! I know my sons, there is no way you would have found your way back home in the middle of the night unless you were up to something – so out with it!”  
  
“Blimey, mom, will you let me catch my breath?! I suppose you do know me too well…” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed to be bossed about by a woman half his size. “Mom...meet Draco Malfoy, my boyfriend. He needs shelter for the night, he’s got nowhere left to go. Lucius was rather… cross with him for choosing  _me_  over his inheritance and is trying to force him to give up his son, Scorpius. It is absolutely vital to put Draco somewhere safe, where Lucius can’t reach him – and I could think of no better place than here. You know Lucius, you know what he’s capable of, we can’t let him get his hands on Draco, let alone on the little Scorpius. He’d rather ruin them both than let them mingle with us!”  
  
The look in her son’s eyes was one of pleading and Molly Weasley never had a heart to reject a person in need of help. More so, when a narrow palm of Draco’s hand landed in her own and the slender youth looked her in the eye:  
  
“Madame Weasley, the pleasure is all mine. I can’t tell you how sorry I am to be such a bother, but if you choose to accept me into your lovely home, I will be eternally grateful and I can assure you...”  
  
“Sweet Rowena,” blurted Molly with no mind that she had interrupted him most uncivilly. Her eyes were, still focused on the long fragile fingers inside her hand, were all but  falling out of their sockets. “You have got to be the tiniest person I’ve ever met in my life! Bless my heart, I’ve never seen so much bone on a living person! Poor darling, have they been feeding you at all?! I will  _have_  to have a word with Narcissa about it, this is unacceptable! Well, hurry on along, dear, step inside, you’re practically rattling in the wind, we don’t want you to catch anything, starved as you are...”  
  
Ron barely managed to suppress a smile when his mother practically kidnapped the slim blond and his words rapidly disappeared in the busy atmosphere of the Burrow. “I assure you, Madame, I’ve been fed properly. I suppose it is just the way I’m build...”  
  
“Well, then, by all that’s good and sacred, I will rebuild you!” came an unfazed reply of his adamant mother and this time Ron chuckled out loud. He had a fleeting thought that Draco perhaps, would be better off taking his chances with his father – but as fussing and over-whelming as his mother was, she was harmless in her motherly care, while Lucius...  
  
Time to deal with the man. Easier said than done. But it would be his pleasure every step of the way.  
  
~  
  
“ _Nothing_! Nothing and no one!” Lucius Malfoy sounded almost desperate as he collapsed into his favourite arm-chair in front of the fireplace. “I’ve searched the place top to bottom, ‘Cissy, I’ve wasted hours - and not a soul! How could this have happened?! Is there any trace of anyone leaving?” He looked at his wife darkly and saw her draw a wand and perform a complex spell that showed no traces but a faint shade of what seemed to be Ron Weasley a moment before he disapparated.  
  
“Nothing here either,” she shook her head. “Perhaps the person who had done it disapparated from another location within the house or simply used other means of departure. At least they no longer seem to be in the Manor. What a relief! I was dead frightened for Scorpius’ well-being after Wheezy informed me of Potter’s calamity! Who could have done it!? And why? And more importantly, what to do with him now?!”  
  
“Are you sure you can’t wake him up? Have you tried everything?” For once Lucius sounded honestly concerned. The implications of having an unconscious Harry Potter in the house could be extremely grave.  
  
Narcissa shook her pretty head slightly yet again and raised her hands up to indicate she was truly and well out of ideas: “I have never seen such a bizarre thing! It looks like the worst kind of dark magic! I've never encountered this particular hex before - if there even was one! It could have been a potion, it could have been any number of plants... He sleeps – just sleeps and won’t be raised! He breathes – but that’s it! It would have been better if he was dead, at least then we could get rid of the body!”  
  
“Don’t even say such a wretched thing, woman!” Lucius looked at his wife with alarm in his grey eyes. Perhaps there was more of that blasted Black blood that poisoned his positively insane sister-in-law running through the veins of his wife than he was aware of. How could she even think that!? A  _dead_ Harry Potter in his home... it was unthinkable! If Potter as much as  _breathed_  to anyone where he was due this evening, they would all be well on their way to Azkaban before the night was done! He should not have trusted Potter to deal with Weasley on his own, the redheaded menace was clearly his weakness and if he had help... His wife mercifully interrupted his dwellings:  
  
“Yes... yes, I know, you’re right of course, forgive me... It’s just... what to do with him now!?” Narcissa shifted nervously, but Lucius Malfoy was spared the answer.  
  
All of the sudden the very fireplace before him - his  _heavily-warded-open-to-highest-authorities-only fireplace_  - roared to life and Ron Weasley stepped through, wand ready and a good half a dozen of other Aurors on his heels. He pointed his wand directly at the flabbergasted Lucius, shook the soot off his fiery hair and spoke calmly, almost pleasantly:  
  
“Good evening... again, Mr. Malfoy. Madame...” he nodded against Narcissa politely and she threw one of her infamous icy glares at him. In the mean time Lucius Malfoy, always the Slytherin, managed to find his footing.  
  
“How dare you?!” he roared at the youngest son of Arthur Weasley and in spite of a handful of wands pointed at him and his wife he barely managed to stop himself from drawing his own and hexing the cheeky bastard that corrupted his son. “Bursting into my house at this ungodly hour!” he hissed. “Unauthorized entry, threats of violence – you might not think very highly of me, Mr. Weasley, but I still have my connections and I assure you, the Ministry  _will hear about this_!”  
  
“I  _come_  from the Ministry, Malfoy,” Ron said pointedly. “I have it _on good authority_ that a crime has been committed in this household tonight and the Ministry has been duly notified. We have been informed that we will find a body – it was not specified whether dead or still alive – of Harry Potter in your house... and I would very much like to have my best friend back, Malfoy!!!” Ron all but snarled at the suddenly ashen-white Master of the Manor.  
  
“You can’t... you don’t have permission...” Lucius tried to hold on to the last of his dignity, but Ron smirked in a way that would make any Malfoy proud: “How do you think I even got through your wards?! Not only do I have permission, I have permission from  _the highest magical authority in the country_ , you slime! See for yourself:  _here_ , right here,” he pointed with his finger, “you will find my wife’s signature, magical and ordinary – and last time I checked, she was still the Minister of Magic. And this paper, Malfoy, gives me the right to turn this place around and bring you both in for questioning!”  
  
“Well, I never... you wouldn’t  _dare_...” Lucius, for once, was lost for words and unfortunately, it made him look guilty as sin.  
  
“Like  _hell_ I wouldn’t!” hissed Ron and looked at his co-workers. “To work, boys! Don’t do any unnecessary damage, we don’t want any allegations of destroying priceless property and using excessive force on Mr. Malfoy and his wife – but we’re not leaving without Harry. Leave no stone unturned! I’ll deal with the lovely couple here.”  
  
“Do you really think you’re fast enough to deal with us both, boy?” Lucius smirked, suddenly very composed and looking very dangerous. Apparently being pushed in a corner brought out the worst in him.  
  
“Probably not,” shrugged Ron matter-of-factly. “But I will take one of you down with me. Would you run with your wife dying at your feet? How fast, Malfoy? And how  _far_? My guess is, not fast enough and not nearly far enough for  _my wife_  to find you. Hermione can be very resourceful and rather... unscrupulous to get what she wants. And even if she never cared for any of us any more, Harry or myself, the public would demand the death of the war heroes to be avenged, they would _expect_ it of her. Not to mention she loves us stupid, both of us. Ah... it seems you won’t get a chance to run after all.”  
  
At that moment the lifeless body of Harry Potter was levitated into the room and the young man who brought him in reported in a business-like voice: “We found him in the dinner parlour, Sir. He’s still breathing, but he seems to have been knocked out cold – though there aren’t any visible wounds to testify of an attack on him, Sir.”  
  
“Very well done, Junior Auror Debonheur,” said Ron approvingly and the young man’s face turned the colour of a ripe tomato.  “You will take Mister Malfoy here and his lovely wife into custody and I will take care of Mr. Potter myself.”  
  
“I can’t go!” A shrill voice of Narcissa Malfoy broke through the bustle of Aurors flooing through the fireplace and for a moment everything stilled. The graceful lady moved and stepped fearlessly directly in front of Ron’s wand.  
  
“You may not believe me, Mr. Weasley, but we have not harmed Mr. Potter tonight, we _found_ him like this when we returned to the Manor from our errands and we have been trying to locate the culprit for this unfortunate affair ever since! I, for myself, don’t have the faintest idea what Mr. Potter could have possibly be doing in our house in the middle of the night,“ -  _Merlin, the woman was good_ , Ron thought almost impressed,  _she was lying through her teeth in a room full of Aurors and not once did she flinch!_  – “but I assure you that you will have our full cooperation in finding the explanation for this wretched matter. Perhaps if you shared a source of your confidential information regarding the attack on Mr. Potter with us...?” And when Ron merely raised an eyebrow as in “ _there’s a reason it is called confidential, woman_ ”, she only sighed and crossed her arms on her chest defiantly.  
  
“Very well, then. Before you ask me, why we didn’t bother to inform the Ministry about the alleged attack on Mr. Potter, you must admit how unfortunately  _guilty_  this makes us look: a former Death Eater and his faithful wife with an unconscious Saviour in their midst... You must understand that our first impulse was to try and find whoever is responsible for this hideous act- and to protect our family. And this is why I can’t go with you tonight, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps you’re unaware of it, but we have a little boy staying at the Manor, our grandson, my Draco’s little boy. If you take me away, he will be left unattended and I can’t allow that. I  _won’t_  allow it!”  
  
“There is indeed a small boy sleeping soundly in his bed,” confirmed the ever obliging Junior Auror Debonheur. “There is no one else in the house, just a tiny house elf who won’t stop squealing that we shouldn’t wake his young Master!”  
  
After a moment of hesitation, Ron seemed to have made his decision: “Alright then,” he pointed at Narcissa. “You can stay for the night. We’ll bring you in later if we have to. But I’ll leave Junior Auror Debonheur here to guard you, he’s more than capable. Arjen, she’s not to leave the house,” he turned to the clearly flattered young man. If she goes anywhere around the Manor, you must follow. And watch her closely, she’s... I don’t trust her,” he concluded and gently let Harry’s body to the ground.  
  
He watched two of the remaining Aurors lead a loudly protesting Lucius into the floo and turned towards Narcissa with his back against Arjen Debonheur.  
  
“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “For your cooperation," he added quickly. "We will be sure to see you around.”  
  
As unsuspicious as these words were, Narcissa knew exactly what they meant and she accepted his gratitude with a gracious nod of her noble head.  
  
“Of course. Anything to help the authorities,” she added courtly and watched him disapparate from the room with the limp body of Harry Potter in his arms.  
  
“Do you mind if I check on my grand-son?” she turned to the Junior Auror Debonheur full of grace as if he was merely a guest in her home. “Please feel welcome to accompany me.”  
  
Time for the final act of her plan. She - and her accomplice - could not afford to get this part wrong.


	15. Dancing to the Black Slytherin tune

“Gone! As in _“not here”,_ Sir! Nowhere, he’s _nowhere_ to be found and Lady Malfoy is quite beside herself! If I didn’t see the child with my own eyes, I might have thought this was some trickery on her part, something clever to get her out of the tight spot – but I never left her side and there _was_ a child, I’m willing to swear on Merlin and his offspring – and now it’s gone! We’ve searched everything, several times over, thinking, perhaps the child woke up during the commotion and got scared and is now wandering around the Manor, but I saw Lady Malfoy perform several tracking spells and he’s not here, there’s no sign of him…”

“Debonheur… _Arjen_!!” Ron finally retorted to barking at the head emerging from the soot when he realized that the young man fire-calling him was too upset to pay attention. “If you are convinced that the boy is no longer there, perhaps you can bring Lady Malfoy to the Ministry to join her husband as there is clearly no need for her to stay at the Manor any longer. If the little boy disappeared and is held by someone with malicious intent, time could be of great value. She needs to be questioned immediately and thoroughly and though I’d prefer to do it myself, you’re going to be at the Ministry before I am, so you should begin the formal procedure right away - god knows the paperwork will take long enough. Keep her away from her husband, though, I don’t want them to “invent” the truth together, in case something fishy happened - I want to hear their separate accounts of this bizarre night!”

“Of course, Sir. I’ll get right to it. When can we expect you at the Ministry?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t be long,” shrugged Ron and coughed to cover the embarrassment. “Look, Debonheur… Arjen… I know you saw the Prophet this morning, I know you are aware of the… bond Mr. Malfoy - Draco, of course - and I share. It gives you all the credit in the world that you haven’t brought it up yet…” – at this point Arjen Debonheur opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but closed it just as abruptly – “… but a good Auror that you are, you must have asked yourself during this time: who could possibly Harry Potter want to see at the Malfoy Manor after yesterday’s scandal and who has interest in Scorpius Malfoy? And you probably came up with the same number one option as I would: Draco Malfoy. Except… it is the _wrong_ answer,” said Ron calmly and looked straight into the soot-covered face.

“You see, Draco Malfoy spent an entire evening with me. We went to The Silver Spoon to celebrate our… oh, fuck it… relationship and I think the whole bloody wizarding England can bear witness to that! And as soon as I was called to the Ministry due to the bizarre business with Harry – who, by the way, still hasn’t woken up, I don’t know what the fuck is up with that! – Draco left with me and is currently staying at The Burrow – that’s how my parents’ home is called. Witnesses a-plenty there as well – he never left. I…” he looked away as if trying to collect himself: “I need to break to him the news of his son’s disappearance. I imagine he will be quite upset, so I might need a minute getting to the Ministry to question Madame Malfoy.”

“Of course!” said Arjen Debonheur hastily and if an image in the soot could have blushed, he would have done it. “Please give Mr. Malfoy my sincere regrets for this terrible situation. I’ll take care of everything here, bring in his... Madame Malfoy and whatever else it takes. If there’s _anything_ else I can do for Mr. Malfoy…”

“I’ll let you know,” interrupted Ron, half amused, half annoyed with the obvious infatuation Junior Auror Debonheur developed for his man. “I’ll be sure to let him know how helpful you’ve been,” he added after consideration. “Draco doesn’t shake hands with just anyone, he must hold you in special regard,” he added kindly and could almost see the young face melt in bliss. “Now, if that’s all, Junior Auror Debonheur, I’d like to get rid of unpleasant task of breaking Draco the news of his son’s disappearance so I can join you in search of the truth of what happened during this blasted night as soon as possible.”

“Of course, by all means, Mr. Weasley. I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”

“You do that, Debonheur. You have a bright future in front of you, Arjen,” said Ron kindly and saw the young face swell in pride. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

As soon as the face of young Auror disappeared from the background of burning coals, Ron exhaled deeply. He was glad he didn’t have to do this in person, he was pants at lying and more so at lying to people he cared about. Still – there was no way around it and at this point letting Debonheur in on the truth might only complicate matters infinitely.

He got up and walked to Fred’s old room that now served as a guest bedroom to the many Weasley grandchildren. As he opened the door softly and took a peek inside his mouth stretched into a tired smile. There it was; all the strength he needed to get through the rest of this hell of a night. Draco Malfoy was sitting on the floor by the bed that hosted a small blond boy that could not have been anyone else’s son. And when he looked up towards Ron his eyes shone with so much gratitude and love that it tied a knot in Ron’s throat. Draco carefully disentangled his arms, wrapped around the tiny creature, got up abruptly and launched himself at Ron, hugging him fiercely.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you…” he said over and over again, kissing every piece of skin he could reach. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, love, I doubted you… I should have known you’d never let me down. He’s safe, my Scorpius is safe and it’s really all I need. And you’re here and you’re mine and... I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life.”

For Draco Malfoy to be this honest was a true testimony of how close to his shattering point the young man had come many times during this evening. It truly was a trying night for all of them. 

~

When Ron appeared with Harry’s limp body in the living room of the Burrow, not only did Ginny almost give birth to a litter of kittens, but Draco very nearly had a meltdown as well. Ron recognised the anxiety and a look of a cornered animal in his eyes, so he let Ginny handle Harry with a promise to _“explain everything in a minute, there are more pressing matters at hand”_ , and dragged the jittery blond into Fred’s old room.

“What the hell is this thing, Weasley?!” erupted Draco before the door even clicked properly. “You promised me my son and now you come here with Potter instead?! I can’t believe you felt it was more important to extract him than to take care of my son!! I should’ve known; you’d always pick him first and above anyone...”

“Would you shut up and let me explain!?” Ron all but shouted and grabbed the blond by the shoulders because he saw he was sinking fast. “Draco... love... relax... please calm down... that was the plan all along... It’s all your mother’s elaborate design. I was never meant to bring Scorpius along, that’s someone else’s task entirely. But my Aurors have seen him and he is safe and slumbering away peacefully, unaware of any commotion. And your father is nowhere near him, I took care of that. Now... would you _please_ calm down and close your eyes for a minute? C’mon, Draco… for me. I need you to trust me right now.”

And the fragile young man just collapsed against him and trembled like a leaf in the cold winter wind. Ron held him closely, anchoring him safely on this side of sanity and treated his fingers through the silken blond hair soothingly. And just when Draco’s breath calmed down and became more steady,  there was a soft pop of apparation and suddenly there was a tiny house-elf standing in the room, almost crouching under the weight of a sleeping child in his arms.

And the blond’s knees just buckled. Ron deposited him on the bed while he sat there ashen white and with eyes wide open, then proceeded to remove the sleeping boy from the poor creature’s hold and placed it in Draco’s lap.

“There,” he said gently. “Your son. Just like I promised.”

The blond hugged the tiny body like a man starved and just sunk on top of him for long moment as if he wanted to melt with him and couldn’t get close enough to him.

“It’s alright…it’s going to be alright now, daddy’s here,” Ron heard him whisper time and time again and it broke his heart to hear his voice full of heartbreak and unfathomable love.

Then he looked up in alarm and asked almost breathless: “How come he is still sleeping?! He is such a light sleeper, you have no idea... And you said there was a commotion and yet he’s still sleeping!  What’s wrong with him?!”

“Wheezy is very sorry, Master Draco!” the jittery house-elf all but squealed, jumping from one foot to another. “Wheezy was afraid Little Master could wake up with all the unknown people running around the Manor and become frightened. And Wheezy got orders he must transport Little Master to Master Draco and there really was no other way. Wheezy put a tiny drop of sleeping potion in Little Master’s evening cocoa, Sir! Little Master will be fine, just fine in the morning, Wheezy didn’t want Little master scared!”

“Well, I’d say you did the right thing there, Wheezy. Along with many right things you did this evening and all the great things you’re still about to do. I’m sure Draco here will be we very grateful once he finds out the whole story,” Ron looked at the blond pointedly and Draco nodded in acquiescence.

“Right thing indeed,” he nodded tiredly and then looked straight at the house elf: “Who gave you the order, Wheezy? Who said you should bring your son to me?”

“Missus Malfoy did, Master Draco. She was very stern with Wheezy, very stern indeed! She said she knew Wheezy played with Little Master and if I didn’t help her and do exactly what she told me to, she would tell Master Malfoy she saw me play with Little Master and then Wheezy would be given clothes, Sir!”

The fear in big eyes of the house elf was so genuine, Ron couldn’t help to feel sorry for the little creature and Narcissa’s merciless approach. Even though one of the first things Hermione did once she was appointed a Minister, was to pass an Act giving the house-elves right to freely seek employment, everybody knew that a house-elf, who was given clothes by his masters, would find it nearly impossible to work again. Everybody assumed something was wrong with him or her and would be reluctant to hire them.

“But now Wheezy cannot go back anyway,” the little thing suddenly began sobbing and his tiny square shoulders shook with the force of his tears. “He kidnapped the Little Master and he must say he did other things... Wheezy will never be allowed to go back to his masters!”

“You are more than welcome to stay here, Wheezy,” said Ron quickly. “Merlin knows my mother always wanted to have a house-elf to help around, she always said they were priceless. You would be treated most kindly and since you took such an excellent effort to protect little Scorpius, surely his father wouldn’t want you parted with him...”

He looked at Draco almost pleadingly and the blond nodded immediately: “Of course... of course you can’t be parted, you’re best of friends, aren’t you? My son would be very cross with me, I dare say. Not to mention that he will need all the help he can get adjusting to the new circumstances... “

But when the tiny creature’s sobs subsided and his unattractive face finally split in a happy grin, Draco turned towards Ron and asked quietly: “Why would my mother do such a thing? Why involve Wheezy, when she could have easily delivered my son to me herself? What is the meaning of this, why such a complex design?”

And this time Ron smiled: “For love,” he said quietly. “For love of that undeserving creature you call your father. In fear of endangering their marriage, she could not afford to be implicated personally and she knew I had no legal right to remove Scorpius – so involving the house-elf was the only option. All of this - for Lucius Malfoy of all people, to keep what they have undamaged.”

“Sounds like Mother, indeed,” sighed Draco. “She always was a bit... _obsessive_ when it came to pleasing Father.”

“But not for the price of hurting you,” said Ron adamantly. “You come first, it seems. What a woman! Such love... no wonder you had it in you all this time, babe.”

He kissed him softly, with warmth and passion, and missed it completely when Wheezy’s eyes went as wide as saucers.

“Ron, darling... oh, my...” said Molly Weasley when she stuck her head through the door unannounced. For a moment there looked as if she lost her train of thought watching her son kiss another man, but she gathered her wits about rather quickly and continued in same unfazed tone: “Well... I would say _“never mind me”_ and _“this will take some getting used to, but please, do continue”_ , but there’s a rather alarmed young man fire-calling for you and it seems what he has to say cannot be ignored.”

And only when her son moved from the bed and his lover did she notice the other two inhabitants of the small room and her jaw almost unhinged:  “Sweet Mary and Rowena... Look at this precious little thing! Where did he come from?! And a house-elf, oh, my!”

And when the blond’s face simply melted at this unmistakable gesture of welcome and appreciation, Ron knew they would do just fine without him. There was no shorter way to his mother’s heart than that of presenting her with a child in need.

“Draco, love, would you be so kind to make the introductions; it seems I’m urgently needed elsewhere,” he said tiredly, but without further ado and went to hear out a report of the shell-shocked Auror Debonheur. He couldn’t afford to stall, there was still much to do.

And here he was at last, soaking the last of strength up in the embrace of a man that was giving it all up for him. He was not going to find anything enjoyable in what the rest of the night had in store for him, but it had to be done. He needed to save Harry’s reputation and repay Narcissa for her quiet support and none of it could be delayed for much longer.

But the blond had a hard time letting him go. It seemed like the events of that night really shook him to the core and he clang to Ron as a drowning man would to a raft. And Ron was tempted to just give into those soft kisses and smart hands and a whispered “ _just a moment longer... stay... just a moment...”_

But he couldn’t. Not with all that was at stake. If someone started a thorough investigation into what really happened at the Manor that night, there would be much grief and embarrassment in stock for all of them. So he tore himself as gently as he could from the shattered creature in his arms and looked him straight in the eye:

“I must go, love,” he said softly, but with determination, and wouldn’t let the silent plea in those silver eyes stop him. “I must do this for your mother,” he explained, knowing that it will ground him at least temporary, so he quickly added: “As much as I hate to ask you this... but I need you to be a proper Malfoy now. I know what I’m asking and I know how hard this is for you tonight – but you need to stay strong for me and for your little one here... just for a while longer.”

And there really wasn’t anything else he could have said that would have made the blond pull himself together faster. He closed his eyes for a long moment and inhaled Ron’s scent once more as if trying to incorporate the warmth of the body he was leaning against, but the young man that looked the redhead in the eye a moment longer, was exactly what Ron had asked for: a proper Malfoy, cool, composed, focused.

“Of course,” he said calmly, nothing more. And if the last kiss he accepted from Ron was a bit too desperately received, the young man could hardly be blamed. “Be back soon,” he told him quietly. “I won’t be able to sleep until you’re once more by my side.”

“As soon as I can,” Ron promised, straightened himself up and looked at the quiet, scared looking house-elf: “Wheezy, it is time. You must do as Madame Narcissa had said. And then you will be a free elf, just like your father. Free to work for Master Draco and little master Scorpius. But you must do this right. Can I rely on you?”

And the little creature somehow pulled itself together and said with as much integrity as his squealing voice could master: “Wheezy is ready. Wheezy would do as ordered… he will try very hard for his Little Master.”

“You’re a good house-elf,” said Draco quietly. “And a good friend,” he added. “Seems that much like Potter once, I’m also to befriend a house-elf and owe him my happiness.”

And nothing could have mad Wheezy swell with pride more.

When Ron went to say his goodbyes to his mother, he ran into a teary and very upset Ginny.

“I’m calling in the Healers,” she sniffed. “We just can’t seem to wake Harry up and it’s been hours… “

“Don’t!” said Ron quickly. “I’ll go and interrogate the Malfoys now and see what the matter is and if he’s still out by the time I come back, we can always alert the Healers. He seems OK, doesn’t he? Perhaps he could use some rest.”

“You, Ronald Weasley, know something I don’t know,” his sister looked at him sharply and Ron had the decency to blush.

But he straightened himself to his full height and looked her straight in the eye: “I do,” he said calmly. “And right now, I’ve got no time to explain. But believe me, you’re better off not knowing, it doesn’t do Harry much credit, he was a bit… derailed in his actions. I will deal with it when I come back and that’s a promise. You know I’d rather kick the bucket than let any harm come to Harry, don’t you?”

And Ginny knew, so she nodded curtly and, unexpectedly, kissed him on the cheek. “Be back soon,” she sighed unhappily. “It seems as if everything is off when you’re not here.”

~

“I _demand_ an explanation! I’ve been stuck in this abominable _hole_ for hours and I will have you answer for it, you miserable excuse for a wizard! When I’m done with you, you’re going to wish you were born a Muggle!!!”

Lucius Malfoy was magnificent in his wrath and Arjen Debonheur wasn’t the most self-confident of young men to begin with. And it didn’t help in the least that this was the father of that gorgeous creature he had the worst crush on and looked every bit like the older version of him. And to top it all, his news was anything but pleasant… Arjen Debonheur indeed wished he could be any place but here tonight. Still - it needed to be done and he intended to be as professional about it as he could muster. He tried to recall how his mentor, Senior Auror Weasley would have handled it, but he just didn’t have the tall man’s overwhelming presence and confidence that came with it. But he tried.

“I would very much like you to calm down, Sir,” he said quietly and Lucius had to shut up if he hoped to hear anything he had to say. “There’s been… a development and I’m afraid, not the best one could hope for. Your grandson… Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy has gone missing. We brought in Madame Malfoy in for questioning – but it seems she hasn’t got a clue who could have been implicated. Still, this is somewhat fortunate for you – you have been in custody all this time and you cannot be blamed for his disappearance.”

Some time during his speech Lucius Malfoy had turned ashen white.

“My son!” he said hastily. “Have you spoken to my son? He could have taken him! He’s got access, he’s…”

“Scorpius Malfoy disappeared while I was still in the Manor with your wife, Mr. Malfoy. No one else was present, I can confirm that. And it seems as if your son has an alibi. He was at The Silver Spoon for the night, as I’m informed, with witnesses a-plenty. He cannot be to blame. We already checked his alibi, the old waiter present says he can remember Mr. Draco Malfoy arriving there with Mr. Weasley – erm, that would be Senior Auror Ronald Weasley, your son’s… partner, I suppose – and he cannot recall Mr. Malfoy leaving."

Lucius Malfoy looked as if he was bursting to say something, but couldn’t and he merely opted to bark out instead: “That man is _not_ my son’s partner! My son’s married and that blood-traitor of Arthur Weasley’s son better keep his sick perverted intentions to himself! He ought to be ashamed of himself, parading his corrupted character in public like that, trying to drag my son with him into the mud! A _shame_ to the purebloods, that’s what he is!”

“Now, you listen…” started Arjen Debonheur in a shaky voice, clearly shocked and intimidated by the old pureblood’s viciousness and malice.

“Is this the thanks I get for finding your grandson, Malfoy?” asked a cold voice from the door and Junior Auror Debonheur positively jumped, ready to hug his mentor fiercely. Ron Weasley could not have come to his rescue at a more appropriate time.

“Where is he?!” the older man asked greedily. “You know now this is all a mountain of nonsense and that I was not implicated; neither in harming Potter and least of all in my grandson’s disappearance - there is some third party at work here. Release me now and let me see my grandson. I _demand_ it!”

“Not so fast, Malfoy,” said Ron Weasley with a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “I’m afraid it’s quite impossible for you to see your grandson at this moment. He is safe and sleeping soundly in the company of the one person who has his best interest at heart: his father.”

And if Lucius Malfoy could have gotten to his wand at that moment, there would have been murder on the spot. His eyes positive shone with putrid impotent wrath, but Ron merely smiled sweetly and ordered matter-of-factly: “Debonheur – please be so kind and fetch Lady Malfoy, I want to be the one to give her the good news. After all – I need to get into her good grace; I expect to be seeing a lot more of her in the future.”

As soon as the door clicked behind the unwelcome witness, Lucius let his mask drop:

“ _You_!!! You filthy abominable creature! How dare you!? I don’t know how you and that idiot son of mine had done it, but I will get to the bottom of it, if it’s the last thing that I do! I know you’re behind all this, I know it! I don’t know what you did to Potter and how, but how _dare_ you kidnap my grandson from me!?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re on about, Malfoy,” said the redhead calmly, the devilish spark in his brilliant blue eyes the only testimony to how much fun he was having. “But I will say this…” – and with these words he leaned forward, the mountain of a man that he was, deeply invading the personal space of the haughty aristocrat and spoke clearly word for word, as if he was talking to a less than bright child: 

“Watch your _fucking_ mouth tonight, Malfoy! I have enough to have you charged with aiding in kidnapping of a Senior Auror on active duty, as well as blackmailing a rightful heir into giving up his heirloom! Both offences are extremely grave and I’d like to see you try proving them _wrong_ , your past record in tow! You’re Draco’s father and I will not actively seek to harm you – but you _push me_ and I _will_ bust your elegant old arse so fast you won’t have time to spell Azkaban! So it is in your best interest to shut-the-fuck-up and listen,” he hissed and the echo of his voice barely died when the door flew open and in floated one very agitated Narcissa Malfoy with Arjen Debonheur following closely at her heels.

“My grandson, have you found him?!” she asked hastily and her face showed nothing but the sincerest concern. _Yep, Voldemort had definitely picked the wrong one of the Black sisters for his aid_ , Ron thought with silent admiration, _this one would have won him the war single-handedly!_ She reached out to her husband elegantly, ignoring the awkward circumstances completely, kissed him on the cheek almost absent-mindedly, and crossed her arms gracefully on her chest, a perfect picture of good breeding and mastery. Then she bore her icy blue eyes into Ron’s and asked haughtily:

“Well, Auror Weasley!? I expect you must have some answers for me by now – after all, your reputation precedes you! I was told you are the best Senior Auror under Harry Potter’s lead – and with the Saviour himself currently unavailable, you are effectively the best this Ministry’s got. You must have _something_! This… the whole intolerable affair – it is perfectly _unacceptable_!”

“Calm down, Madame, if you please,” said Ron courteously and pointed to a chair, which she took with a flawless grace. “We’ve found your grandson and I assure you, he’s perfectly safe, resting with his father.”

The look Narcissa shot towards her husband was full of anxiety, but her words reflected none of the emotion: “Merlin be praised, so he is! Oh, what an impossible night! But do tell me – how could this unfortunate affair have happened!? Is it clear yet?! Have you found the culprit?”

“Well… I’m afraid it is a bit more complicated than that…” shrugged Ron. “We found out who did it, the whole shebang - stunning Head Auror Potter and taking your grandson – but I wouldn’t _exactly_ call him a culprit. It seems as if it had all been a great misunderstanding, as the… _person_ who did it stepped forward to confess to his actions immediately and when your grandson was taken, he was delivered almost directly to his father. I’m sure when Harry wakes up, he will agree with me – for all the uproar it caused, hardly any crime had been committed tonight.”

“But who, _who_ , Weasley, was the wretched man behind this calamity?!” barked Lucius Malfoy and Ron could almost see his fists contracting in a deadly grip. As sorry as he was to do this, he had no choice.

“It was your house-elf, I believe he’s called Wheezy,” he said as calmly as he could and saw Lucius Malfoy literally collapse backwards into his chair with his noble mouth gawping in disbelief resembling that of a fish out of water.

“My house-elf?” he asked dumbly, because there was no way this was _ever_ going to make sense in a million years and a million universes away.

“Your house-elf,” confirmed Ron adamantly and saw Narcissa’s elegant hand fly to cover her mouth. _That woman…_

“You see – I was just about to tell Draco the unfortunate news about his son’s disappearance, of which I was dutifully informed by Junior Auror Debonheur here, when your house elf apparated right next to us with a sleeping body of your grandson in his arms and spared us all a lot of grief. He was squealing and sobbing so hard for a while it was quite impossible to make out what on Merlin’s bloody earth – pardon my language, Madam – he was saying, but eventually we managed to make heads and tails of his story and this is what he told us.

Apparently Harry Potter had apparated into your household unexpectedly very late in the evening - his motives as of now are still unknown – " he looked at Lucius sharply, _daring_ him to say a word, but as much as the silver-haired wizard was seething, he kept his mouth wisely shut. “In any event - it seems as if Wheezy was taken a little by surprise by a sudden appearance of an unannounced stranger in your home and he let his impulses to protect his family take over: he stunned Mr. Potter with one of his particular defensive charms and when he saw who it was that he attacked – because that how it would look like – he completely lost his presence of mind. You see, that particular charm is quite impossible to counter and it takes a while to wear out, he told us, so once it was cast there was precious little he could do.

I don’t know how you treat your house-elves, Malfoy, but this one is dead frightened of you. He was absolutely certain he would be immediately given clothes if he confessed to what he had done, so he hoped that the calamity would simply come to pass in the morning, because by that time Potter should have already come to his senses. But suddenly the house was swarming with Aurors and the poor house-elf no longer knew left from right. He heard people shouting downstairs and you shouting back, then my lovely colleague here stormed in, howling something about strangers running around the house and stunning people – so he did the one thing he thought best until the terrible mess cleared up: he protected the heir of the Malfoy family and took him where he knew the child was going to be safe – to his father. Inadvertently causing more panic, of course. But he did it to protect what you should value most, Malfoy, so – can you truly blame him?”

“Oh… that terrible stupid _stupid_ creature!” shrieked Narcissa in a distressed voice. “He should have been given clothes years ago, really, just as dumb as his wretched father, this one! To cause us all this trouble! I don’t want him to set another foot in our household, Lucius, _not another foot_! I absolutely refuse to have such a failure for a servant! What a commotion! What misery! – _and because of a house-elf_! We will be the laughing stock of the wizarding community if this comes out! Gentlemen,” she turned towards the two Aurors and looked at them sternly. “I must ask for your complete confidence. I don’t want _a word_ of what happened at the Manor tonight to see the light of day. Do your reports, write what you must, but I would very much appreciate it if no one outside this room – save for your superiors – found out about the unfortunate turn of events. I would take it as a personal favour if you did my bidding.”

“You need not fear, Madame,” said Ron courteously. “I will personally mark the file as a confidential. I have no interest in humiliating you and I think as upsetting as this affair was, it best be forgotten.”

“I… thank you, Mr. Weasley,” Narcissa Malfoy nodded gracefully and proceeded to look at the younger man in the room as well. “And thank you, Mr. ... Debonheur, was it? Your behaviour was most exemplary tonight, and I will make sure this goes on the record. Darling,” she turned to her husband without further ado, “I can’t fathom why should our presence still be mandatory at this wretched place, so if Aurors Weasley and Debonheur agree – shall we?” she looked at her husband with a raised eyebrow, clearly indicating _“say no more, we shall speak of it in the privacy of our home”_.

And for once Lucius Malfoy didn’t object. When it was clear the Aurors weren’t going to stop them and Ron merely asked for them to remain available for any additional questioning, he took his wife’s arm under his and all but dragged her outside. But he had a last minute stop by the door and hissed at Ron:

“This isn’t over yet, Weasley. I want my son and my grandson back and I will not stop until it is done!”

But Ron merely smirked and asked with a bit of rogue in his voice:  

“So which one is it going to be, Malfoy? Threats or bribery? Because I hope you realize there’s _nothing_ you can do to me that wouldn’t come back to haunt you tenfold. And as to the bribery…” He approached the haughty wizard in two long strides and looked him directly in the eye: “You might be the richest wizard in Britain, but you don’t have enough, Malfoy. There is only one way to buy my heart, old man, and your son has found it: a heart for a heart. A pureblood like yourself should know better than to try and break a bond so sacred and so magical.”

“Darling, I believe we’re quite done here,” said Narcissa Malfoy and dragged her flabbergasted husband along with an adamantly tug at his sleeve. “Good day, Mr. Weasley… Mr. Debonheur – adieu!”

And if Ron didn’t know where to look he might have missed a tiny shadow of a smug smile that flashed in the corner of her lips.

He watched her go and once the door clicked he had a rather unusual thought: _The curtain has fallen and the primadona left the building._

If only the night - well, almost morning now - was done for him… He still had to deal with the hardest part.

 _Harry_.

 


	16. The Sleeping Beauty

“So he hasn’t woken up yet?” Ron inquired quietly, as if he was afraid his too-loud words might do just that to his best mate, still lying exactly as he left him on the big cosy couch in the Burrow’s living room, breathing peacefully.

Ginny, puffy-eyed and looking lost, shook her head tiredly and then made a point of speaking to him  adamantly: “We have to get Healers, we have to, Ron! I don’t care how embarrassed he’s going to be about his behaviour later, but I’ll take embarrassed over “ _not conscious_ ” any time. You haven’t told us a thing about how this had all come to pass, but frankly, I don’t care for your big Auror secrets at the moment! I just want my Harry back, I don’t know what to do with this empty shell!”

She looked ready to start crying again and Molly quickly closed her arms around her and whispered a few words of comfort in her ear, while glaring at her youngest son scarily over her shoulder.

“Alright, then.” Ron closed his eyes and tried to focus. He needed to do this right, no one else needed to get hurt. He just… wished he was more up to the task ahead. As it was – he was all but confident about his abilities to do this right, but it was what it was: he needed to at least appear to be in control to his distressed sister and outraged mother. As a Senior Auror issuing orders and taking charge should at least be something he was familiar with. _Here goes nothing_ , then…

“Ginny, wait here by Harry’s side in case he wakes up. Let me try something before we bring in the cavalry, as the Muggles call it. Mom, I need a word...”

Puzzled, but without a mind to question his son, Molly Weasley followed him into the hallway.

“Mom... we will need to move Harry into our old room, I will need some peace and quiet for this; some privacy to do this right. And I need you to keep Ginny away for as long as it takes. Please, mom, it’s necessary – it’s for her own good, she’s been through enough. “

But Molly Weasley has had it with this crazy night full of unknown characters running in and out her home and people she cared about getting hurt. She all but stabbed her fists into her waist defiantly and barked at her son with a barely tamed voice:

“Ronald Weasley, this is my daughter and my son-in-law you’re talking about and your codes of secrecy or whatever rot you Auror types have do not apply to me! You will tell me _this instant_ what this is all about, who has done such a wretched thing and what to do, or I will not move another finger to help you!”

“Mom, please...” Ron tried to calm her down, but one look at her stormy eyes told him that ship had already sailed. “Bloody hell.... fine!” he then threw his arms in the air as if he was giving up and looked straight into her fuming face.

“It’s something called the Talia curse,” he said quietly and once the recognition dawned on her, he saw her gasp and her features freeze in the mixture of worry and confusion.

“The Sleeping Beauty curse? But how? It’s been banned for centuries; I didn’t know anyone still had the knowledge… But - this cannot be... Ginny’s been up and down Harry’s face a thousand times, she must have showered him in a thousand kisses and still he won’t... _oh_.”

Finally she realized what was the issue at hand and her hand sprang to her mouth to cover the expression of shock.

“One’s true love, mom,” Ron said quietly, suddenly Weasley-red in the face and looking at his feet in a mixture of embarrassment, regret and heartbreak. “If it was Professor Snape on that couch, he would have slept himself to death.”

“But who...?”

“I can’t tell you unless I have your word never to reveal this to anyone, and I mean anyone - Harry, Ginny, anyone. Honestly, mom, I can’t! They will be given a different version of events, I’d be hurting good people if I let that slip!”

This time his voice was so adamant, the reflection of her own obstinacy so clearly written in his face, that she knew there was no way around it:

“My lips are sealed, Ron,” she nodded solemnly at her son, strangely proud of his integrity, and saw his shoulders relax a little.

“It was Narcissa Malfoy,” Ron confessed and explained to her dumb-struck face: “She saw her son happy with me and she’s gone out of her way to protect us from being torn apart by Lucius. Harry... was helping Lucius, mom. Please don’t tell Ginny that, she hates that man, he caused her so much sorrow,” Ron blurted out and looked at his mother pleadingly and, much to his relief, saw her comply once more with a small exasperated nod.

“Anyway, Narcissa knew of Harry’s... affection for me - apparently he had come to them and informed them about Draco and I, and confessed to... oh, _screw_ it, to loving me, to ensure their cooperation in breaking our relationship apart. And he would have succeeded, too, mom, if it wasn’t for her!” said Ron feverishly, trying to convey the gravity of situation to his shell-shocked mother. 

“Harry – he was completely beside himself, he kidnapped me and tied me up while trying to confess his love for me... you should have seen him, he was off his rocker, not my Harry, not the Harry I know at all! But then Narcissa hexed him from behind and gave me a chance to salvage the situation. She knew he would be alright with this curse, she had said, as long as he had one true love...”

Ron stopped abruptly, unable to continue, eyes flashing nervously between his mother’s face and his feet.

“Oh, honey...” his mother finally managed. “Oh, what a blasted mess!”

She looked worried and distressed and sad and Ron would have done everything and more to have the expression wiped off her face.

“I suppose he can’t help whom he loves,” his mother finally sighed and she looked at her son with a mixture of sadness and regret and then a sudden flash of defiance crossed her face:

“But don’t you go having any second thoughts about doing what needs to be done, young man! I know you have your... boyfriend, partner, oh, whatever that Malfoy boy is to you – I know you have him to think about now, but this is _Harry_ , your very best friend, a boy who came to your rescue, to the rescue of every member of this family more than once, you do what you need to do, Ron!”

“Yes... I know, mom... _I know_ .” Ron ran fingers through his hair nervously, knowing that what he needed to do will take the delicacy he so sorely lacked, but unfortunately there was no way around it.  “You deal with Ginny, then. Have her help you move Harry to my old room, keep her occupied, make her brew some useless concoction for him or whatever else it takes to make sure she doesn’t come near the room until one of us comes out. It would cause all of us a lot of sorrow, if she did. I need to wake up Harry ... somehow... and afterwards we need to talk and I need Harry who walks out of the room to be OK with Draco and I… _and_ willing to stay with her... bloody hell, talk about loading my plate full!” he sighed unhappily.

“But my first duty is to Draco,” he finally covered his face with the palms of his hands as if he suddenly felt all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I need to talk to him, at least try to explain.... Don’t worry, I will do whatever needs to be done to wake Harry up regardless of his reaction,” he lifted his head and put her objections to peace hastily, before she could bring them up. “But I don’t want to go behind his back with this, he needs to understand his own mother put me in this position and I _have_ no choice!”

“And if he doesn’t?” his mother asked unexpectedly. “What if he doesn’t understand, Ron? What if he’s not going to see things with your eyes? What if he thinks you don’t mind the opportunity to be with Harry, that this is some sort of choice between Harry and himself? What then, Ron?”

His mother has spoken out his deepest fears so plainly, he closed his eyes as if he couldn’t stand looking at his miserable meagre options.

“I hope it does not come to that,” he finally said quietly, sounding every bit wretched. “I hope Draco understands... I need to help Harry, for everything good he’s ever done for me. The man who loves me has to understand that I would never abandon a friend in need, even if that friend is my ex-lover who’s treated me less than fairly. This is my Harry we’re talking about, he saved us all at one point, myself included! How could I not help him? Sometimes I think I was born to stand by his side, for Merlin’s sake, none of us would be alive, if we weren’t there for each other. Not helping him - it would go against everything I am! If Draco doesn’t find it in his heart to accept who I am... I guess I’ll just have to keep on looking.”

His voice was barely audible in the end and it broke Molly’s heart to see him in such state.

“Oh, Ronnie...” she hugged him fiercely. “He’s a right _fool_ of a Malfoy if he can’t tell where your heart lies. For all it’s worth, in all my years with Arthur, I don’t think I’ve ever had him kiss me more passionately than that – how do you children call it? – _snog_ , you two exchanged earlier – and that’s saying something, coming from a mother of seven children!”

Ron smiled through the tired tears that he felt dwelling at the end of his eyelashes and he let his mother comfort him for a moment longer. Fuck all - a 25 year old man, a father himself – but this was his _mom_ and he was always kind of starved of her affection. But then Ginny opened the door and peaked out on the corridor, sniffing in a barely audible voice:

“Mom? What shall we do now?”

And as always – the moment for cuddling Ron Weasley passed too quickly.

There was no point in delaying: once more Ron decided to put his good prospects on the line for Harry and hoped Draco Malfoy could find it in his Slytherin heart to trust him.

~

“You have to do what?!” Draco stared at his lover with gapping mouth and one could almost see the anger smouldering at the bottom of darkening grey eyes.

“You heard me,” Ron said quietly, staring at his lover’s face with the bravery he didn’t know he had. “It’s the way the curse works, you should know this better than I, it was your family that had it banned centuries ago, you must know about it!”

“Of course I know how the curse works, don’t be…” _daft_ was barely kept at the end of his livid tongue. “But you, on the other hand, could clearly use some references. Do you even know what you’re asking of me?! The Talia curse – commonly known as the Sleeping beauty curse - was made up to punish the people from well-to-do families that have done unforgivable things – condemning them to literally sleep themselves to death if they were beyond hope of ever becoming valid members of society – a rather convenient and pain free method of elimination, actually – or, alternatively, giving them a chance at reformation under one condition: if their hearts were salvageable enough to have one true love and if that person agreed to re-awake them.

Now, here’s the part I have a slight problem with: it’s not entirely clear from the records, what that “re-awaking” part entails: am I being asked to allow my boyfriend to kiss a man whose one true love he is – or am I giving him permission to _fuck_ him – until he wakes up?!”

The crude choice of words alone testified how beside himself Draco was. He ignored Ron’s pale face and a quiet: _“Draco, please... don’t be like that...”_ , because he was livid and frightened out of his wits. The one man he was dead jealous of for most of his life, the one man that _owned_ Ron in every possible way, before the redhead even acknowledged Draco’s existence, that man needed Ron - _his_ Ron, _finally_ his Ron! - in a way, that required some sort of intimate involvement and _godohfuckinggod_ , what if the kiss was not going to be enough?!

He saw panic grab him by the neck while Ron stared in front of him miserably, trying to come to terms with what he’s been told – and all he could think about was how desperately he wanted to snog him and hold him without ever letting go and tell him – fuck it, _scream_ at him! - that _no, he can’t give him permission to go and do anything with or for the fucking four-eyed freak that continued to ruin his life even from a coma_!  

But he knew Ron better than he probably knew himself and he knew exactly what of a reaction this would have spurted: defiance, display of loyalty and of ruthless honesty – and he just wasn’t up to that. Deep down inside he knew this was only a formality: Ron came to him to ask his permission, because he was a true Gryffindor and because he really wanted one from Draco. But he didn’t need one. It was already decided. Except Draco didn’t want to acknowledge just how powerless had that made him feel. His heart felt heavy with absolute misery at the very thought of a nod of approval he was required to give to whatever it took to wake up Potter. He didn’t want to. Not just yet.

He needed a moment, a few moments in which he could pretend Ron Weasley still belonged to him and no one else but him. Just a few moments. In case this was all that was left for him, just in case life had it in for him once more and he was going to lose everything after coming so close. The very thought was unbearable and he felt as if the heart in his chest was soaked and suffocating with numbing depression.

And one thing kept of jumping at his tired tortured brain and in the end he couldn’t help blurting it out: “Why would my mother do something like that? You said Potter told her about you two and she had to know it was _you_ he…” – his voice broke and he couldn’t finish, he couldn’t connect the words Potter, Ron and love into one sentence, it sounded too much like surrender of all his hopes. But one look at the wretched Ron’s face told him everything he needed to know – the redhead understood. 

“Why would she do that?” Draco repeated stubbornly, just to occupy his mind with something other than panic and misery he felt. “She - us, the Blacks - we know the curse better than anyone. For the people who were cursed, the chance of ever waking meant a feeble option at best – one still had to be pure enough to have the ability to love – on this condition alone many a-Black had succumbed to a deadly slumber - and the person they bestowed their love upon had to volunteer to wake them – and not many could be persuaded to bring back to life the monsters hit with this curse.

And because the Blacks in particular were raised to love no one but themselves and most of them turned out to be arrogant bastards who thought ruining other people’s lives was an excellent sport  - it was a destiny of many a-member of my mother’s family, to end up sleeping themselves to death. So after losing his daughter _and_ his brother to this calamity my great-great grandfather decided to put in all his weight to finally have this curse banished from the list of acceptable punishments for the noble families. My mother truly should have known better!” Draco all but yelled his eyes suddenly ablaze in impotent anger.

How could she have done something so cruel to them, to him? Wasn’t there a million different ways to knock the Saviour out?! She knew it was Ron who… Ron was _that_ person for Harry, she knew how vulnerable and hurt that would make Draco feel, why would she have done such a wretched thing, put their young love under such stress, test it so sorely?!

And then it downed on him. _It was a test_. A test for them both.

For him, a trial of trust. If he could trust Ron enough to let him wake Potter - whatever it took - and still hope to see him return to him, he had nothing more to fear from the Boy who lived, ever again. He’d be free of a silent tiny gnawing fear that Ron might one day wake up to discover that he had chosen wrong and would come to change his mind.

For Ron, it was an examination of his heart. Offer him a chance to be with the one man he adored for his entire life – and see if he can find his way back to the man he claimed he truly loved. To Draco.

What a cruel way to do this. His mother’s way. She was a Black through and through. With one blow she slashed their hearts open and put them on display – and she was running the show even from afar.

“I love you,” the quiet voice cut through his thoughts and Draco’s world shook with the force within them. A second later Ron Weasley was by his side, wrapping him into his incredibly comforting bear-hug and kissing his insecurities away. “I wish you didn’t doubt me,” he said between two feverishly returned kisses and suddenly Draco knew he had nothing to fear. He already had more than he ever hoped to have, a head full of wonderful memories, a heart full of blossoming hopes. In the last couple of days, Ron gave him more than he had ever been given before.

And with this thought on his mind Draco Malfoy decided to throw it all to the dogs as he went on to do the bravest thing he had ever done in his life.

“Do it,” he said straight into his mouth and then pulled away, so there could be no doubt as to what he was saying. “Do it. Whatever it takes. Say goodbye to him as your lover, good and proper, and come back to me. And then don’t ever ask me to let you go again.”

His own words seemed to strangle him once they were out and it hit him with full force how many things could go wrong and how much he was risking. But he was his mother’s son, he did what needed to be done, the harder the challenge, the higher the reward. His reward, his wonderfully tall and warm and loving reward, currently occupied by kissing every inch of his skin, was worth it. He could only hope he wasn’t making the biggest mistake in his life.

~

As the door clicked behind him, Ron gave a heavy sigh. So this was it, then. For a moment he just held his place at the door and watched Harry. His Harry. He really was the tiniest little thing, wasn’t he? Someone had removed his glasses and without them, Harry didn’t even show his 25 years, he barely looked above the age of a teenager. And he was a thing of beauty.

Smaller than the usual – well, certainly smaller than Ron, no surprise there! – all lean muscled frame, all of it perfectly proportioned. And that shock of jet black hair against the pale skin and those incredible dark eye-lashes casting long shadows down his pale cheeks... No one would have guessed the splendid shade of sparkling green they hid behind their veil. The soft mouth, just slightly turned upwards in the corners, as if he was somehow meant to smile, Harry was everything Ron once wanted from life.

But not anymore. Or so he’d like to believe.

Resigned to his faith, Ron slowly approached the bed and sat down next to Harry heavily, so his childhood bed sunk a little under their combined weight. But Ron knew the good ol’ bed can take it, they sure put it through a lot in their time, the randy little beasts they had been! Boy, this piece of furniture sure held some sweet memories and just the thought of those young simple days made Ron smile most fondly. He gently swiped away a few strands of raven-black hair plastered to Harry’s forehead and ran his thumb across his cheek softly, as if he was trying to buy time to make a decision.

Gods… only a few days ago he would have jumped at this opportunity to show the world who was truly Harry Potter’s chosen one, he would have relished in it! He would have launched himself at Harry, kissed him, stripped him, fucked him, anything, any bloody thing that would have brought him back and then he would have shared it with the whole world. _Gladly_ . Any of those things. _Gladly_.

But now it was all so infinitely more complicated. He knew a part of him would always love Harry; it was enough for his heart to catch just a glimpse of him and it began beating faster. He felt an acute need to protect him, to keep him safe and from hurting, to own him. To be with him, to laugh and to joke and to touch him, to feel his warm skin and his heart, just to make sure he was somehow real and he made it to adulthood alive.

But he really did _not_ want to kiss him. For more reasons than one.

At the bottom of it there was the tiniest fear that somehow the touch memory would come to activate that soft spot, that vulnerability, that undeniable pool of love he always had in store for Harry – and that this, perhaps would lead him down the path of betrayal he could not imagine surviving unscathed. _What if_ –

He didn’t even want to think about it. Not like this, not with what he was about to do, not right now. Because his lips still tasted of Draco, of that fresh, foreign scent and taste of exclusive, expensive flavour Draco Malfoy wore on his skin. Ron only needed to run his tongue along his lips, still painted with his sweet devoted kisses – and he desperately felt like more, felt like turning around, running to him and ravaging him stupid with his mouth. He fell in love with Draco Malfoy, stupidly, unexpectedly, head over heels in love, and there was no way back for him. There couldn’t be.

But still he was here to do this. To wake up Harry somehow, the only way the curse allowed, and then to break it to him gently, that he didn’t want to be with him any longer. At least not like this. Easier said than done… But there was no way around it now. He was here to give Harry what Draco called “ _his goodbye_ ” and damn him to hell and back if he was not going to do just that!

He sighed heavily one more time, closed his eyes and slowly sunk down onto Harry’s lips.

~

Draco was shivering. As soon as Ron had left, so did all the light, all the hope that this will somehow turn out alright. How could he win? He _never_ won when he went up against Potter! _Never_! Except a couple of days ago in a restaurant, when Ron looked him deep in the eye and said: “ _Kiss me_ ” – it had felt like victory back then. Sweet and proper; elating and long overdue and – _sweetmerlinandrowena_ , please let him come back to me, he thought desperately, suddenly feeling so fragile he didn’t know if he could keep himself on his feet.

Mercifully he was distracted by the shifting coming from the bed and when he threw a nervous glance in the direction of the sound, his heart immediately relaxed and once more constricted in a sudden wash of overwhelming feelings.

“Papa?” The blond mussed head of Scorpius Malfoy peeked out from under the heavy patchwork quilt and his bright eyes, a most curious mix of blue and grey, though still quite obviously sleepy, blinked happily with unexpected joy of finding his father with him.

Draco was by his side in a blink of an eye.

“Scorpius...” he whispered, his throat constricted with love and relief at being able to close his arms around his son protectively and feel his every emotion requited in a way only a child could do: fully, simply, unconditionally, no reservation, no pretence, no agenda. In that moment Scorpius was there for him, holding him together as if the roles were reversed and it brought exhausted tears into Draco’s eyes to think what a power this tiny creature held over him, how blessed he truly was to have someone like this in his life.

If the innocence and love could have a form, in that moment they would exist in that of Scorpius Malfoy and it was a balm to his tortured father’s soul just to know that he was close, that his life was not just a meaningless pointless existence no matter what happened.

And the tiny shelter of bony arms around his neck had brought back hope. Ron had done this. Ron had taken care of his child and made sure he got it back with the help of his mother and that spoke volumes of what they had. Ron cared.

So he willed himself not to spill the tears of exhaustion and emotional turbulence that were dwelling somewhere at the edges of his eyelashes – after all, it might scare his precious baby to see his papa cry – unprecedented event! – and he wasn’t ready to admit his defeat. Not yet. Not at all. A Malfoy here, dammit! He’s gonna fight for his man if he had to!

“Papa... what is this place?” a soft voice of his son broke through the scattered fuming thoughts swirling in his darkened mind and he pushed them aside with the last of his strength and smiled at his child fondly.

“Remember how I told you, that if you were going to be really good and keep our secret long enough, we will once come and see Ronnie, the boy from the story?”

Scorpius’s particular eyes got impossibly big and awed at his words and Draco could barely hold back a smile at this obvious display of innocent infatuation.

“Well, you have been _exceptionally_ good, as Wheezy keeps on ensuring me, and I believe the time has come for me to live up to my promise, so I brought you here – this is his home – to meet him. But do keep in mind what I told you about him - Ronnie is all grown up now, like your dad here, and everyone calls him Ron now – though if you insist on calling him Ronnie, I can’t imagine him objecting much,” he smiled straight into his child’s eyes and got a thoughtful look in return.

“I think I shall call him Ron, then, if everyone else does,” said Scorpius after a short pause and nodded to himself as if he just came to an important decision. “Though it might take some getting used to,” he said apologetically as if he wasn’t quite sure he didn’t over-estimate his abilities to rename his hero on such a short notice and Draco couldn’t help but smile again. The boy was smart, there was no denying it, and his sharp intellect sometimes reminded Draco of his own mother – but there was a heart there, which he wore on his sleeve for everyone to see and it scared and awed Draco that he had fathered and raised someone who was so unlike him in this respect.

By the time he was Scorpius’s age, he had been bullied into hiding his every emotion, every crazy unabashed childish feeling he had, every inappropriate observation he made from his innocent perspective. It had given him the structure of a proper Malfoy. It had also ruined him for life and he had sworn, that once he was to have his own child, he would raise him to be different. To remain who he was and not to lose himself in the process of obtaining proper manners and other qualifications that were one day going to make him a head of the Malfoy family.

His musings were once more interrupted by his son’s voice and his simple question sent chills down his bones: “Am I only to meet him this once, papa, or will I get to see him much?”

And this question has brought home most forcefully that he didn't have an answer to give.

“I don’t know, child,” he whispered truthfully and he felt as if his heart was choking him in his throat. “I was hopeful he would have us.”


	17. A choice at last

Merlin, his lips tasted good. Even like this, in his immobile state, they were soft, strangely fresh, though just a bit chapped and above all – familiar. These were the first lips he had every kissed and to Ron familiar meant good; it meant safe and happy and his own. But it wasn’t until he felt a quiver and sensed them responding, that he realized how pulled into the kiss he had become. This was his Harry, his only poison for the longest time and it felt good and right kissing him.   

And then he felt his body stirring underneath him, the bony fingers sinking into his hair, the lips responding warmly, coming alive, opening up for him, granting access, the sweet mouth deepening the kiss and whispering a string of broken words straight into Ron’s own gently caressing mouth:

“Ron? Merlin... I thought I’ve lost you!”

And only when he felt the flutter of long eyelashes tickle his cheeks, telling him that Harry had opened his wonderful eyes, Ron broke the kiss gently - and finally, he knew why.

Because for as good as it had felt, it was also all _wrong_. It did not reflect what he felt for Harry any longer. It was a goodbye indeed. A goodbye to his youthful dreams, a goodbye to passion and belonging he once felt for Harry, a goodbye to the hopes of the past, a ghost of what could have been.

So he smiled at Harry from close proximity, though not without a hint of sadness in his eyes, and answered truthfully:

“Only as a lover, Harry. I’m still here.”

He saw his eyes turn incredulous, desperate and stormy and felt Harry’s fingers tighten in his hair:

“Then what was this right now, Ron!? Don’t you think I felt it?! You _kissed_ me, kissed me right and proper, like you used to! We’re _not_ over, we can’t be! You can’t be toying with me like that!!”

As the room trembled slightly with the force of Harry’s pent up magic, Ron’s hands slipped without hesitation on top Harry’s wrists and he freed himself from the angry grip of his best mate, but kept his tiny fingers in his big hands, as if he wanted to make sure, they weren’t going to hurt anyone.

“The kiss was... necessary,” he explained hesitantly and with no small measure of embarrassment. “I would have done this and more to bring you back, Harry. You were hit with a curse, as unfortunate as it was, and this was the only cure, as cruel as it may seem.”

But Harry’s eyes were no longer on his face, they had gotten impossibly big at the sight of Ron’s wrists, peeking from the long sleeves and displaying clear marks of burns.

“Merlin... who?... I’ve done this to you!” he exhaled miserably as the memory hit him. “You’ve got this... because of me... Sweet mother of god... No wonder you don’t want me any longer! A right monster I am!”

“No, Harry.” Ron slipped one finger under Harry’s chin to make sure that the clearly distressed youth looked him straight in the eye. “You got this all wrong. I’d take this and more for you, any time. I just... love you that much, Harry, I always will... but I can no longer give you my heart. And I’m asking you to be fine with that.”

When he saw a defiant, tortured expression cross Harry’s face, he spoke quickly, knowing he had to ride the moment when his best mate couldn’t find the words to respond:

“Last time we spoke like this, face to face, I asked you to love me. To let go of it all, for me. And you couldn’t do it. And you were right not to, _so right!_ Because I had no right to ask you that. I had no right to tell you where to take your heart... as you have no right to tell me where to take mine, Harry. “

“But Malfoy, Ron, _Malfoy_!” Harry interrupted feverishly. “I… understand that you don’t want to be with me anymore, god knows don’t deserve you, but Draco Malfoy… that’s just… it’s a stretch too far. How do you even…” He stopped, because he had no words to tell him how very _wrong_ he found the idea of Ron together with the hated blonde.

But Ron just smiled a tad sadly: “I once hoped you and I would end up together... and we did. As best mates. Not quite what I imagined, but I supposed I never imagined loving Draco either. But I do, Harry,” he looked him deeply in the eye as if he wanted to make it perfectly clear to his wounded best-mate that he had no doubt about his choice.

“And I know he loves me, too. I’ve never asked you for much - and you still gave me all that and more - but right now I’m _asking_ you to let me make this choice. No matter how wrong you think it is, even if it is a downright mistake - you have to let me make my own. I cannot follow your shadow any longer, Harry, I have to cast my own and with him, I can. He makes me shine, Harry, he adores me. I never felt so loved and appreciated in my life and he’s not afraid to show it either. Just earlier this evening he kissed me in front of my own mother, imagine that!”

The expression of hurt on Harry’s face said more than any words could how much he would have loved to be the one kissing Ron in front of everybody and the redhead ran his fingers nervously through his hair, before he took a firm hold of Harry’s numb hands once more.

“Shit… I’m so pants at this… Look, Harry,” he said as softly as he could because his heart was cracking open when he saw his best friend so down and completely devastated. “I’m not going to say you had your chance and you wasted it, because that’s not entirely true either. It was not a _fair_ chance, not with what you stood to lose. And for all it’s worth, I think you made the right decision. I would never be able to look your little ones in the eye again if I took their dad from them.

I was being selfish and hurt and I made a foolish call to challenge you and your heart. I never meant to break it; it was not supposed to come so far. If I was thinking straight that evening, I wouldn’t have forced you to make a decision; I’ve always thought you’d make one on your own, eventually.

But you did, Harry, you _did_ in the end. Perhaps you can’t find it in your heart to appreciate it now, because you didn’t chose what your heart desires, but that just goes to show that you’re a much better person than I am. If you had chosen me… that would have made me proud over the moon… - but in a long run, it would have lost me a great portion of Harry I had come to love; Harry who can be exceptionally proud of what he achieved, of his life, of his family. You could never be whole again if you abandoned your kids, I know you, Harry Potter. That’s why I came to love you and that’s why I’ll never stop loving you for as long as I live. Your life, your love is a blessing to so many others, not just yourself.

But I don’t have what you have, Harry, I never did. I don’t have that feeling of importance, of mattering to the world and to myself. I… was never enough. Mostly to myself. I always felt as if I was lacking something – when I was a child, I thought it was money or talent for Quidditch or my magic, which was never anything out of the ordinary. But as I grew older and I gained all those things, the money, the skill, the importance in the eyes of the world – that hole was still there. As if part of me was missing, a void gaping in the middle of my soul, sucking in all my achievements like giant black hole, as if they were nothing.

And I desperately wanted you to be the one to fill it. My shiny new, all mine, best friend. Someone who everybody admired, someone who chose _me_ to stand by his side from an army of willing admirers. It still makes me swell with pride, to this day, it does. But it didn’t fill up the hole in me, as much as I wanted it to, it had only made me more aware of it.

And then I met him, really _met_ him, Draco, the man behind the insults and the pompous family name. Someone ten times more lost and hungry for love than myself; someone who hides his every insecurity, every heart-felt desire behind a smirk and a sneer, because he can’t keep it together if they were out in the open.

He’s so fucking vulnerable, Harry, the real Draco is, that once he shattered to pieces in front of me, my every instinct drove me to wrap myself around him and just hold him. And somehow, when I reached out to him and he responded to me - violently, truthfully, in all honesty, naked and raw, as I asked it of him - and offered me his heart... this was the first time in my life that I felt that hole inside me heal itself and disappear. As if somehow, miraculously, it was in the shape of his heart this whole time and only his heart could fill it perfectly. I can’t explain, Harry, but he makes me feel whole. I know he was a bastard to me once – but he’s my bastard now.

And now I have to ask it of you, to let me go, not entirely, not completely, just my heart. So I also have something to give him. I wouldn’t dare offer him anything less.

If you do this for me, Harry, my Harry, I’ll still be with you, if you’ll have me, every bloody day of your life. I swear you won’t be able to get rid of me if you hire a pack of Death Eaters to plot my demise! I’ll be your best mate until the day I drop the bucket and beyond; I’ll be your Ron, the keeper of your secrets, someone who knows you inside out, someone you can fall on with all your weight if life ever knocks you over and someone who will always make sure you land gently.

Please, Harry… Just this one thing… Make me someone who can shine by your side, not merely drag his feet in your shadow. Will you do that for me, Harry? Will you give me a chance to be my own person, to make my own choices, perhaps my own mistakes, find my own love, make my own happiness? Will you, my green-eyed muse?”

And he kissed the tears from his jet-black eyelashes gently, kissed them away from his quivering mouth, kissed away a lost whispered “ _Ron_ …” and waited his reply patiently.

His gentleness and his sincerity had taken all the fight out of Harry and he couldn’t utter a word for the longest time. He never felt so broken in his life, so hard pressed to even breathe. The only thing that kept him together was a feeling of large warm hands holding his own, sheltering his bony shaking fingers, making him feel as if he wasn’t completely left alone and abandoned after all. He tried squeezing them, if only to see if he was still alive and not cast in stone as he felt - and he ended up gripping them viciously, as if they were his only life line.

When he spoke, his voice was ragged as if he wasn’t speaking in years, and in fact, the man who spoke now, perhaps never spoke to Ron before:

“I won’t say you don’t know what you’re asking of me, because you do… you know very well. You know that I’d blow my life to smithereens right now, to be with you, every last bit of it… but you came to tell me, you won’t have me… and I have to accept that. Don’t even ask me how it feels, cause you know… you know it burns like acid through my heart and I’ll never be the same Harry you came to love again. You’ve broken me, Ron, god knows you have broken me… Right now, I don’t know how to go on, so I have to take it slow…”

At this point his voice cracked and he pulled out his hand from Ron’s grip abruptly and furiously wiped the tears from his eyes with a gesture of a little boy, who wouldn’t be seen crying and it broke Ron’s heart to see the mountain of despair in the bottom of those beloved green eyes. But his hand was back promptly, his fingers slipping in between Ron’s and intertwining, holding on for dear life. His voice was clearer, but more feverish as he continued:

“But the one thing is clear to me: I can’t survive this without you by my side. These past few days, when I thought I’ve lost you… like really, _really_ lost you, for good, not only as my lover, but also as my friend, my… other half, as your… as this Malfoy you insist on calling yours so acidly put it… those last few days have been unbearable. And they had made me realize how much more you’ve become to me. My world is… off balance when you’re not around and I can’t ever have that again. I will do anything not to lose you again. For all it’s worth…”

Harry looked his best mate straight in the eye: “I love you, Ron Weasley ; let there be no doubt - I’m in love with you. God I wish I had said that years ago and not now, when it’s too late. I love you with all my heart… and I release you.

Because you asked it of me and because if I don’t, I risk losing you and I can’t afford to ever lose you again. If I had it my way, we’d walk out of this room hand in hand, but I’ve only got myself to blame to have lost you and I guess the Universe wants justice. Merlin knows you waited long enough, gave me chances enough, offered yourself to me time and time again and I just took and I took and I took, I never once gave back what I thought was mine…

I should have known Ron, all those years ago, when I first climbed into your bed, that I’ll never get anything more precious than what you were giving away so generously and that this priceless heart of yours should have been my final destination… But you see, I always was a blind fool in more ways than one and I didn’t realize that all that taking and never giving anything back was going to leave a hole in your chest…

And now you’re telling me, you found someone else to fill it… And it’s killing me… It would have killed me if it was the worthiest, the most loving person on the planet, someone who was well-deserving of you and your wonderful loving heart – but it’s him, _the Malfoy_ , the one person I can’t see any worth in! And you’re asking me to trust you – so I must. On your word alone. And because I know your heart has a way of telling the truth that’s hidden from plain view. That’s why you chose to sit with me that first day on the train to Hogwarts and I trust your heart more than I trust my own judgement.

I have to believe Malfoy will make you happy like I couldn’t – and I will do my best to try. Though right now I just feel like strangling him from taking you from me… and I feel like hurting him and you with him and myself for being so bloody foolish for losing you…. I had died once and it hurt less than this, I swear on Merlin’s name it did… but I’ll take it, for you. You’re just worth it all to me, Ron Weasley, always was.”

At this point Ron hugged him fiercely and held him tightly and kissed the top of his unruly hair a million times, whispering “ _thank you, Harry, thank you… God, I wish I could do this without hurting you…_ ”

And Harry just let himself be held, pressed against the chest, against the beat of the heart he just gave up, soaking up his warmth and willing for his sobs to subside and his tears to dry out.

“You know…” he sniffed in the end, when his eyes were red and hurting and his chest finally stop heaving enough for him to breathe, “…if this all ends badly, you’re going to have to suffer through me telling you “ _I told you so_ ” a million fucking times, you big ginger oaf - ” and he moved away to look him in the eye and saw him smile through his tears, “ - but I’ll be there to say it, Ron, because I’ll never let you slip away from me again. I hereby swear to cherish you, appreciate you and respect to your choices – as long as you promise you’ll never give me up completely. I don’t care if your boyfriend turns permanently green in jealousy, I don’t want to be your “ _once-best friend Harry Potter_ ”, I want to be your “ _best mate Harry Potter, the one I got shit-faced yesterday with_ ” and you’re never allowed to leave me behind, understood!?”

“Oh, Harry… you bloody idiot…” Ron had to wipe his own tears cause it looked as if he had an inexhaustible warehouse of them ready at first sight of Harry’s misery. “As if I could ever leave you behind, you four-eyed twat! Man, you really are blind if you can’t see I miss your stupid scarred face like crazy! Of course I’ll never leave you behind, you dork, how could I?! I may be in love with another, but changing a best friend – or _losing_ one, what a daft idea! – was never on the menu, not in this big ginger oaf’s life. I’m not sure it’s even in my vocabulary.”

“Hmp, he’s in love with a Malfoy for a total of 3 seconds and he already talks like him – “ _daft idea_ ” indeed!” mumbled Harry and tried to awkwardly dry his tear-streaked face with a sleeve, before he remembered he was supposed to be this fucking greatest wizard of his time and he just grabbed a wand to do the job.

“Now, take me to this shithead boyfriend of yours, so I can count his teeth and negotiate with him just which ones he is willing to lose if he as much as puts a hair out of place on your head!”

But when he tried to stand up, his face grimaced in pain: “Mother of god, what the fuck was that curse I was hit with? There’s someone in my head taking dancing lesson to the drum solo of Weird Sisters!”

“Something called Talia curse,” Ron said quietly. “I’ll tell you about it, if you wish, but if don’t care one way or the other, I’d rather not. The headache is just a minor complication, this could have gone seriously awry…”

“She did it,” Harry suddenly said. “She did it, didn’t she? Malfoy’s wife… Draco’s mother. I saw it on her face, just a glimpse and it was gone, but I knew I couldn’t trust her. Does Malfoy – oh, bloody hell, too many Malfoys in my life now – does Lucius know?”

And Ron merely shook his head, for once relieved that he didn’t have to lie to his best mate.

“And I would appreciate it, if you didn’t mention it to him,” he said quietly. “I know she was meant to help you – and in the end, she did, if not exactly how you planned. She did what was the best for everyone.”

And Harry really didn’t have anything to add to that – it was true. Ron took his hand, purposefully ignoring what it would look like if they came out of the room like that. Fuck them, what he just let go off was nothing compared to a moment of other people’s distress; he was entitled to hold his Harry whenever the fuck he felt like it! But right before he opened the door, he looked at Harry pleadingly:

“Ginny, Harry… she really missed you. I had to promise to never touch you again and she would be heartbroken if she heard about… _this_ , about how I had to break this curse. Can we…”

Harry’s eyes got comically big in mocked shock:

“Weasley, you’re bloody mental if you think I’m going to submit myself to years of screeching accusations if she ever found out about this! For god’s sake, I’m going to spend the rest of my living days with this woman and her Hungarian-Horntail-temper, why would I shoot myself in the leg like this?! No… this… moment of ours… it’ll stay between us - ” he looked at Ron with a small smile and suddenly added with unexpected softness: “ … - but I’ll never forget it, I’ll cherish it all my life. It’s all I’ve got left.”

He looked at his best mate with big green eyes and Ron read in them all those things Harry will never be free to say again. So he hugged him fiercely, kissed the top of his head again and whispered:

“Let’s go, Potter, before I melt at your feet and you’re going to have to explain to my boyfriend why you delivered me in a vial… You’re the most precious friend one could ever have, you know that?”

“Hmp… let’s see what you think of me _after_ I tell that bastard of yours what I think of his courting strategies!” mumbled Harry, his eyes still sparkling in the memory of how magnificently manipulated they all were by the unscrupulous Slytherin.

“Now, Potter, play nicely! No harassing my boyfriend in my presence… or behind my back, for that matter!” Ron warned, suddenly flushed with the silliest sense of panic.

Bloody hell, Potter and Malfoy in one room… repeatedly... for the rest of their lives… that can’t end well! What had he done!? Harry’s magic was magnificent and only half predictable; one could never know which way it would explode if he felt provoked! Merlin, he hoped Draco had better sense than trying to go poking Harry into his soft spots! He could not see how he could possibly stop his wound-up and pissed-off ex-lover-reduced-to-best mate going for his jugular! And what if…

“Ron, stop projecting!” Harry said sternly. “I know you’re thinking up a thousand and one scenarios with bloody limbs flying around the place in your head, I can always tell when you do that! Your eyes get impossibly big, like you’re watching a Muggle horror movie and I can almost hear you tripping over yourself trying to think of all the possible outcomes! I’m not gonna hurt bloody Malfoy… much… oh, OK, stop looking like you’ve seen Voldemort return – If Molly left all of his teeth intact, I reckon she had a good reason and I dare not attack one of her guests. Though I have a distinct feeling I’ll be sorely tempted…” he murmured to himself, when Ron opened the door to Fred’s old room and not one, but two blond heads turned in unison to greet them. And for once Harry Potter could not hold back his shock:

“Bloody hell, Malfoy, you’ve been cloned!”

“Language, Potter!” hissed Draco as he got up abruptly, but his eyes were no longer on the raven-haired youth as if he couldn’t care if he vanished on the spot. Instead they were glued to Ron’s face, the worry and the fear in the grey eyes barely concealed, scrutinizing every detail as if trying to discern the verdict. His heart leaped in his chest when he saw the redhead had clearly been crying, but a moment later Ron crossed the tiny room with all but a couple of strides and cupped his face with his long fingers. For an endless agonizing moment he looked him deeply in the eye, ignoring his best mate who all but froze at his place at the door as if he knew what was coming; ignoring the awed gasp of a small blond boy who looked at him with big round eyes as if he just stepped from his high place in Heaven because he had surely never seen more magnificent a man…

Oblivious to the world and to everything around them, because this was… _it_ , this was their moment, he finally took a big gasp of air and told him in a shaky determined voice:

“It is done, Malfoy. I’ll take that reward now. Everything you've got… Draco.”

It was all the warning the blond got, before Ron kissed him fiercely, passionately, with love and abandon, with near despair, as if he needed to draw warmth and strength from him, when his own was so terribly depleted.  And Draco didn’t consider denying him, not for a moment. The wave of relief and all-encompassing love that hit him was so overwhelming that for once he dropped all reservations, all pretences and just dug his fingers deeply in the warm mass of silken fiery hair, held on for dear life and let himself be ravaged.

“Ron,” he managed somewhere in between two kisses with a voice, reflecting years of hungry love and need, which came dangerously close to a sob. “God Almighty… all these years… mine at last.”


	18. It comes down to choices

When Malfoy actually managed a quiet helpless “ohhhh” straight into Ron’s mouth, clearly oblivious to the rest of the Universe, Harry found out he couldn’t stand it. His insides squirmed at the sight of his best mate kissing that sneaky blond bastard and he felt literally nauseous. His eyes frantically began seeking for something, anything else to focus on – and landed on the only other being in the room.

Scorpius Malfoy was staring at his dad with big round eyes and soft cherry mouth shaped into a perfect O. Clearly he had never seen his father in such a position and his face wore an expression of disbelief, astonishment and awe. The little boy was indeed a remarkable image of his father. Except... there was softness in his eyes that Harry never saw on Draco’s face and something alike brightness and kindness lying in every pretty feature.

As if he felt that he was the centre of his attention, the boy slowly shifted his eyes towards him and looked at him straight with peculiar grey-blue eyes. And then he smiled shyly - and his features, so much like his father’s, unexpectedly transformed his very Malfoyian face into something Harry Potter had never seen before. And then the little man went on and did exactly the same thing as his father had done all those years back - he extended his arm towards Harry and offered his hand in greeting:

“Hello, there...” he said in a ringing child’s voice, a little insecure, as if he was not used to talking to adults uninvited. “As I see my father is... preoccupied, perhaps it is only appropriate that we make our own introductions. I’m Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy and you must be Ronnie’s ... Ron’s best friend, the boy with the mysterious mark!” he smiled brightly when he finally spotted a scar peeking out from Harry’s unintentional fringe.

And somehow that innocent bright smile compelled Harry Potter to do what he wouldn’t do all those years ago: he took the little man’s hand into his own and pressed it into his own firmly.

“Pleased to meet you, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy,” he said seriously. “My name is Harry James Potter, I _do_ have a most peculiar mark and I’m indeed Ron’s best friend.”

“Harry James Potter,” repeated the little blond thoughtfully. “I should try very hard to remember your name, Sir, but you must excuse me if I don’t succeed immediately, it is a long one...”

“Oh, just Harry... Harry would do,” said the raven-haired wizard quickly, hardly able to believe he came across someone that _didn’t_ know him by his name, and somehow – _fuck, if he knew how!_ – he found himself smiling at the youngest Malfoy. And saw his soft little face dissolve in the prettiest breathtaking smile a child could ever have.

“Harry, then... just call me Scorpius, if you please,” explained the little one excitedly. “Does that mean we’ll be friends?” And then without waiting for the flabbergasted wizard’s reply, he went on to explain: “I thought of it most carefully and I decided if I ever got any friends I would let them call me by my first name, it does sound more appropriate, don’t you think? Of course, grandfather Lucius would be displeased, but then there’s not much that makes him happy in any event, so I suppose that would just be one more thing to he does not approve of. Papa always tells me not to take everything he says to heart, he does sound so awfully stiff sometimes! “

 _Sweet Merlin... Malfoy sired the cutest little blabbermouth_ , Harry thought to himself half incredulous, half amused.

“So, Harry – can I ask you a question?” continued the little man, suddenly in a much lower voice and only after he had thrown a careful glance across his shoulder, seeing his father still all but glued to his hero’s mouth, oblivious to the whole world and then some.

And Harry Potter appreciated the distraction - hell, he would have welcomed a pack of bloody Dementors if that meant he wouldn’t have to stare at Ron, his Ron, the Ron he found so hard to give up, kissing another man, _a much hated man_ at that...

So he willed himself to focus all his attention on the little thing staring at him with curiosity but none of the usual wonder related to his surname, and he leaned closer to the boy with all the air of a proper conspirator, urging him in a voice barely above the whisper:

“Go on, then, ask! But you must do it quickly; your dad will eventually have to come up for some air...”

“Well, yes... this is a little embarrassing,” confessed the little blond blushing – _blushing_! “You see, he’s not usually like that, he barely even smiles to other people, though I must say he does smile an awful lot to me. But this is Ronnie... Ron, and he dreams about him all the time... so I suppose he must be forgiven,” the little one trod on innocently, not knowing how much of his dad’s heart he had just given up.

“But I’ve been meaning to ask you: Are you also famous like Ronnie...Ron here? And did you really go on these wonderful adventures with him? And the fire-dragon you two and the super-smart witch saved my papa from - was that _for real_?! Because... you see, my father has been telling me all these stories, but I couldn’t help noticing that they change a little every time he tells them, so I was wondering if perhaps... Well, not that he would lie to me, of course not, but...”

The boy looked at him miserably and he did have the most curious mixture of blue and grey in those big innocent eyes and Harry couldn’t help but smiling – _again_! – at the little Draco’s carbon copy who couldn’t be more different than his haughty insolent father.

“You were wondering, if your dad, perhaps, exaggerated the truth a little... to make it more interesting?“ he asked kindly and he saw the little worried face resolve in a happy smile, testifying of his relief at being properly understood.

“Yes, precisely! All those stories – I find them terribly exciting and I’m afraid I keep asking to hear them, but then he tells them a bit differently every time and now I don’t know any more if the dragon was red and gold or perhaps gold and covered in black cinder... or if you trashed the super-powerful Villain King into little bits and pieces that the wind took overseas or was it into ashes that rained for hours... so...”

He looked at him big-eyed, begging for confirmation and Harry nodded most solemnly:

“True. All of it. Every word, I’m afraid. The dragon was gold and red _and_ covered in black cinder and the Villain King got blown up to black smithereens that got blown apart all over England and rained for hours... Your dad was just forgetful of all the details, he _is_ rather old, much like myself, you see.”

“Yeah, he’s ancient!” Scorpius Malfoy nodded happily and suddenly became aware of silence behind his back. And when he turned around his father was staring at him with the most curious look of surprise - but he barely noticed. Because also the bluest eyes he had ever seen were on him - and the ginger-haired giant was even mightier than he imagined.

“Ronnie...” he whispered in awe and completely forgot about his resolution to call him “Ron”. And his new friend Harry was all but forgotten as well, when the tall redhead crossed the room and kneeled next to him, sweeping him into his lap as he went, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

“You must be Scorpius Malfoy,” he spoke with a deep rumbling voice, nothing short of what he expected from so big a man. Scorpius couldn’t talk for the love of god, he just nodded shyly and stared at the man with fiery hair, who gave him the biggest, warmest smile he had ever seen any adult flash. 

“Hello, Scorpius. My name is Ron, but you’re more than welcome to call me Ronnie, my mom does, too!” he said gently. “You see, I hope to be great friends with you, because I like your father a lot and he tells me you’re the most important person in his life. He… likes me a lot as well, I suppose, and… well, I heard he promised you that I would come and live with you one day, so... I guess I’m here to ask you, if you would like it to be this day…”

He looked at the little blond questioningly, but only managed to wrench a sigh and a few strained nods out of him, as Scorpius Malfoy continued to stare at his hero from close up completely star-struck. A bit embarrassed by such obvious admiration, Ron flushed a little and gave the tiny guest in his lap another one of his heart-melting smiles:

“That’s brilliant! And don’t worry!” he quickly continued in a conspiratory voice. “It wouldn’t be just us, the boring adults, I’ve got two little ones of my own and Harry here, the – _whatsitcalled_ , _help me, Potter!_ – boy with the mysterious mark, that’s it! - he even has _three_ of his own, imagine that! So, I guess you’ll have friends to choose from! Would you like that?!”

And after some enthusiastic but still numb nodding on the part of the little blond, Ron just smiled kindly, not insisting on getting an answer as it was clear that the excitable child was too high-strung for words. So he merely kissed the top of his singular silver blond hair and hugged him tightly – only to have the little arms slip around him and hold on to his wide back tightly, as Scorpius Malfoy pressed his face into his chest and closed his eyes to the beat of his heart. Even Harry found the gesture strangely moving and Ron just brushed his cheek with his thumb gently and held him some more, whispering in a quiet soft voice:

“Your father was right… you really are the most precious little thing, aren’t you?”

And Scorpius Malfoy just smiled happily into the warm shirt smelling of joy and love he felt radiating from this huge man, but wouldn’t know how to describe it. Ronnie was _the best_ there was, that much he knew.

“Would you like to go and meet some of your new friends, then?” the big man asked him and as reluctant as he was to tear himself from his hero, the prospect of friends was too good to pass upon. He never had any friends… at least not human ones... and of course Harry there, but that was only a few minutes ago and he _was_ rather old… If he could meet other children….

He climbed from his lap adamantly and said with as much grace as he could muster:

“I apologize for not saying much earlier, it’s just that… _you’re the best_ and I think I forgot how to form words for a while!” he beamed at his redheaded hero, still somewhat spellbound by his mighty presence, and scored a brilliant smile in return. “I should very much like to meet your little ones now,” he added quickly to say what he wanted to say before he forgot himself and his manners again and then surely, papa would not be pleased. He wasn’t sure he did so good today…

“Go kiss your dad goodbye then and I’ll take you on a little tour around the Burrow, that’s how this place, my home and now your home for a while, is called,” he sent him off and Scorpius Malfoy practically flew to his dad, gave him a hasty hug, accompanied by an enthusiastic kiss and promptly ran back to hold Ron’s big hand.

“Ready, if you please,” he informed him in a ringing voice and the redhead nodded solemnly and opened the door. He barely managed to wink at Draco and blow him a kiss before they were gone.

“Bloody hell… Weasley just kidnapped my son… or was it the other way around?” mumbled Draco, still a little dazed on how quickly his son traded him for his hero and a promise of some company. He heard children’s voices on the courtyard and he moved towards the half open window to watch his son’s first encounter with what he hoped to make his future family. And he realized, he was just a tad nervous, just like any other parent would be…

At the call of Ron’s voice “ _Oy, you little scoundrels, there’s someone here to meet you!_ ” kids gathered around the two of them like the chickens being fed.

A tiny redheaded girl – Draco guessed this was Lily Potter, if his reports were correct - was the first one to speak:

“Are you an angel?” she wanted to know and stared wide-eyed at the little boy with long blond hair flowing down his shoulders - and Draco had to suppress a nervous giggle. Trust it on the Potter-Weasley offspring to come up with an out of this world question!

“He’s not an angel, Lily, he’s a boy, can’t you see?” another redheaded girl - slightly older, with rather bushy, violently red hair and piercing blue eyes - instructed her in her most important voice – _“Merlin help us, mini-Granger!”_ Draco thought flabbergasted - and she approached the strange boy holding on to her dad’s hand almost studiously.

“He’s pretty!” she declared. “I’m going to marry him and we’re going to have two children, one blond, one ginger - one boy and one girl and we shall live happily ever after.”

This time Draco’s hand barely shot up to his mouth in time to stop himself from laughing out loud and betraying his presence.

“Dear God, she’s _scary_! Much like her mother,” he mumbled to himself, but couldn’t help appreciating the admiration that a girl - clearly Hermione Granger’s daughter, no doubt there! -bestowed upon his son.

“Yuck, don’t be silly, Rosie!” the oldest boy approached and Draco only had to take one look at him to know this one was a Potter through and through. “If he’s a boy, we taking him to play Quidditch together, we’re an even number now!”

But then a younger version of Harry Potter – _“And Potter had the audacity to call me cloned, talk about pot calling the kettle black!”_ Draco thought begrudgingly – sneaked up from behind them and slipped his fingers into Scorpius’s free hand.

“He’s going to be my best friend!” he declared. “He’s as old as me and he’s a boy, so you other farts can bugger off!”

“Albus Severus Potter! Mind the language, little man, or you’ll be eating soap for dinner!” came from somewhere inside the house and Draco heard snickering from somewhere behind him.

Bloody Potter... He nearly forgot the man was still here. The raven-haired youth slipped to stand by his side at the window, their shoulders touching at the narrow opening; his legendary green eyes carefully placed on the company in the courtyard as he offered in a quiet raspy voice:

“Well, Malfoy… you seemed to have done _one_ thing right.”

He wouldn’t look at him, but Draco knew it was as good a peace offer he was ever going to get. So he simply nodded silently and continued to stare at his tiny blond son holding the big hand of Ron Weasley with trust only love can inspire.

“Still won’t stop me from _annihilating_ you if you as much as think about hurting him,” Harry continued without blinking. “Don’t. Even. Think it.”

And Draco turned towards him with all his Slytherin grace and spoke somewhat slyly:

“Now, would I do that, Potter? I know what I got, I’ve wasted _years_ getting it... Unlike _some_ , I know how to cherish it. He’s all that and more, absolutely worth it! But you already know that... Besides...” he shrugged and turned towards the window again, “He’d run straight to you if I fuck up and Potter, if you won’t believe anything I say, believe this – I really _can’t_ have that!”

A small smile appeared in the corner of his mouth and before the raven-haired youth could stop it, it was mirrored in the corner of his mouth as well.

“Just as long as we’re clear on that,” Harry murmured quietly and cherished every moment he got to rest his eyes on the tall redheaded figure standing in the middle of the flock of kids.

And just when it seemed as the war outside for their new friend was over and Albus Potter declared a rightful winner, another small redheaded figure appeared at the end of the courtyard and approached with a slow uncertain pace.

And Scorpius’s eyes got as big as saucers as his head shot up to his tall companion and back to the skinny little figure coming nearer with every step:

“Ron-Ronnie?” the little blond almost stuttered and Draco’s throat got dry at the thought he might have seen the ghost of the past indeed. There was no hint of Granger in the lean figure, tall for his age, the silken fiery hair so much his father’s and the cornflower blue eyes that stared directly at his son.

“No, that’s my dad, this one here. I’m Hugo,” the boy said simply. “Don’t worry, everybody gets it wrong, he’s only a bit taller. And you are?” An arched eyebrow - finally a hint of Granger there, on his face.

“Scorpius... Scorpius Malfoy,” Draco’s poor over-whelmed child somehow managed a reply and stared at Hugo completely spellbound.

“Pleased to meet you, Scorpius,” Hugo nodded solemnly and elicited a hissed reply from a seething Albus:

“Bugger off, Hugo, he’s mine! I saw him first!”

“Now, children...” Ron tried in his most calming voice. “There’s no need to...”

“Fine,” shrugged Hugo and turned around half way, but not before he flashed a brilliant smile at the stunned blond boy, prompting an immediate shy echo on his face. “My dad and Uncle Harry made us new brooms for Quidditch. Come and see?” he threw across his shoulder temptingly and already headed for the broom shed at the end of the courtyard, as if he was not in the least interested in a reply.

“Yes... of course, yes! Wait for me... for us!” Scorpius Malfoy finally managed to unglue himself from the ground and launch after Hugo, pulling a still fuming Albus Potter behind him without letting go of his hand.

“Did you just see that?! I keep telling Ron this one’s Slytherin material, but he refuses to hear a word about it,” sighed Harry half despaired. “He keeps on repeating stubbornly Hugo’s the youngest and needs some edge to establish himself, but honestly.... this Weasley has more cheek and mischief in him than Fred and George combined and his mother’s brains on top of that... And he just knows how to play it all! The big baby blues, the big innocent smile... I swear to God he’s got us all wrapped around his little finger, Ron most of all. He adores him.... He’s going to be floored when the Sorting hat has its say!”

“Oh, Potter, I wouldn’t worry too much,” Draco shrugged matter-of-factly and gave a dreamy smile. “I’m told that in the end it’s all about choices.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's really really it. I couldn't resist that last word.;) Many thanks to all of those who bothered and struggled with reading and especially those who took their time to comment. :)


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